


There and Back Again

by Bookboy



Category: Church (Short Film 2019)
Genre: All intseh are hermaphrodites, Ash's compound trauma, Can't believe it took me this long to add that tag, F/M, Found Families, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mentions of violence/abuse, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pretty much cannon compliant, So Bear With me, So many OCs, The Ashivon/Sanga is very slow burn, They literally just told each other it's ok to hold hands again, Tselah's dads!, and the rest of his family, but for now it's all pretty vague, give them a minute, multi part but no update schedule, no beta we die like men, one or two exceptions, rating will go up when we get there, several points of view, therapy for everyone, will become more explicit as story goes on, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookboy/pseuds/Bookboy
Summary: When Tselah is returned to his parents, Ashivon and Sanga think it's over.But nothing's ever really over.
Relationships: Ashivon/Sanga, OC/OC/OC
Comments: 46
Kudos: 66





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Nalitalvon and Yarethelah's youngest kit, Tselah, disappeared without a trace months ago. They had finally given up hope that they would ever find their youngest. But they shouldn't have.

_ Sniff. Sniff.  _

Nalitalvon looked up in concern at the sound of sniffling. Their mate, Yarethelah, was standing still at the opposite end of their family’s booth, faced away from them, staring at something. “My soul?” they called softly, moving to Yarethelah’s side. 

Their larger mate startled, blinking wet eyes rapidly and hurriedly scrubbing at their cheeks. They forced out a laugh, harsh and false. “It’s nothing,” they hurriedly soothed. A hand drifted over their belly, still not showing more than a gentle swell despite being so close to birthing time, but then Yarethelah never showed as much as Nalitalvon did. One of the benefits of being so large. “The little one plays havoc with my moods.” 

Nalitalvon’s frown deepened. They reached up, gently cupping the side of their mate’s face. “Don’t do that,” they entreated softly. “Don’t push me out.” 

Yarethelah’s face crumpled. A few new tears darkened their fur. Their eyes dropped, and Nalitalvon followed their gaze, finding the tiered planter that defined their stall’s separation from the neighboring one. Understanding crashed through Nalitalvon, and suddenly they felt like crying too. “Oh,” they whispered. 

Yarethelah nodded, sniffling again and reaching out, delicately stroking the fragile petal of the snowdrop blossom, just barely beginning to bloom. “S-snowdrops were their favorite,” they choked out. 

Nalitalvon nodded, unable to speak past the lump in their throat. Wordlessly, they reached up, cupping the back of Yarethelah’s neck and pulling them down, into an embrace. Yarethelah curled into their shoulder, releasing a single sob. 

“Will the tears ever run dry?” Yarethelah choked out. Nalitalvon shook their head. They weren’t sure tears were ever supposed to dry if your first kit died before they were even half-grown. 

Little Gods, they couldn’t even be sure Tselah was dead. He was just  _ gone. _

After a few long moments, Yarethelah inhaled a shuddering breath and pulled away. They offered Nalitalvon a wobbly smile and loving nuzzle. “Thank you, my heart.” 

Nalitalvon managed a small, half-hearted thing of a smile and a nuzzle in return, purring briefly, but didn’t return to their task until Yarethelah had. It didn’t take long for them to finish packing up their stall for the day; cleaning utensils and bins, organizing everything for the next day, counting the till, gathering up the few unsold fish to be sold to the fertilizer-maker half-price. Even if the sun wasn’t yet at its zenith, their work day was finished. No one bought fish that was a few hours dead, it spoiled too fast. 

Nalitalvon was tying down the last flap of their stall-cover when Yarethelah suddenly went still, their head snapping to stare down the marketplace, toward the pier. Nalitalvon frowned. “What is it?” they asked. 

Yarethelah blinked, shaking their head, confusion on their face. “I could have sworn...” they huffed, shaking their head more firmly. “My melancholy this morning is affecting my hearing. I thought I heard-” 

“Daschev! Taschev!” 

Nalitalvon snapped upright, staring toward the call, heart in their throat. Shock bogged down their thoughts, narrowed their vision until all they could see was- 

“TESLAH!” Yarethelah bellowed, dashing forward to meet their kit, their movement the trigger to snap Nalitalvon out of their own stunned stillness, stumbling after them. 

Tselah had had a growth spurt while they were gone, Nalitalvon noticed absently. Their horns were a little longer, their limbs a little lankier, standing just a little bit taller, but their smile- oh, Nalitalvon would recognize that brilliant grin anywhere. 

Yarethelah scooped Tselah up the instant they were within reach, clutching them close, tears and laughter spilling from them in equal measure. Tselah laughed as well, clear and bright, one of their little white hands clutching at the back of Yarethelah’s sleeveless shirt, but the other- the other they reached out to Nalitalvon with. “Taschev!” they called, and Nalitalvon clutched at that small, perfect hand, trembling and pressing little kisses to it, breathing prayers of thanks against that hand. 

By all the Gods, great and small, Nalitalvon was going to become a believer in miracles yet. 

Tselah giggled, rolling their eyes, but didn’t pull away or even seem exasperated with their parents’ bewildered affection, bearing their attention with much more grace than Nalitalvon would have expected from a ten-winters kit- another new trait from his time away, Nalitalvon observed. Their heart ached as they wondered what their kit must have seen to learn such patience. 

“Tselfa, Tselfafafa, where did you go?” Yarethelah finally managed to gasp out, pulling away to intently study their kit’s face, the hand not holding them secure on their hip restlessly roving over the features of their little face. Tselah laughed, shaking their head. 

“Bad magic took me away!” they revealed breathlessly, gaze shifting between their parents, who both stiffened, but they plowed on without pause, talking rapidly, like they were telling a grand adventure story. “I woke up to go use the privy, and I guess I tripped on something? But next thing I know, BOOM!” Nalitalvon jumped, and Yarethelah’s grip tightened on Tselah momentarily in startlement. “I’m in this scary, dark place that smells really gross, surrounded by these strangers in hoods and a glowing circle, and they’re saying things in this weird language I don’t know, and it was so scary! They showed me this statue of a human, and then- oh!” They suddenly straightened, guilt flashing over their face and deftly wiggling out of Yarethelah’s grip. Nalitalvon nearly panicked, suddenly irrationally terrified Tselah would dart off into the crowd and they’d never see them again- 

But Tselah didn’t dart, just grinned up at them, taking both Nalitalvon and Yarethelah’s hands in their own and leading them forward. “In the bad place, I was rescued! By Ashivon and Sanga!” 

Nalitalvon exchanged a look with Yarethelah, the two mates equally shocked. Ashivon was an Intseh name, but Sanga... 

“A human rescued you?” Yarethelah questioned, flabbergasted. 

Tselah nodded, continuing to drag them resolutely forward. “They’re weird, but nice! Ashivon was taken like me when they were little, and they grew up in the bad place with Sanga,” Tselah explained. “The bad place made Ashivon weird about some stuff, and they get kinda freaked out when I run off- there they are! Sanga!” 

Ahead, just off the pier, a small crowd was gathered around a huddled figure, nearly collapsed in the stone. As they drew closer, it resolved into not one, but two figures, both wrapped around each other; at Tselah’s call, the darker hued head moved, lifting to reveal a brown human face framed by black headfur, with strange eyes that were white on the outside and dark in the middle, and rounded features, tears glittering on their cheeks. Their brow furrowed momentarily, then cleared into a smile, showing blunt white teeth. 

“Tselah,” the human called, causing the other figure to rise from their shoulder and turn to look as well. This one was Intseh, about the same age as their eldest kit and rather handsome in a severe way, primarily dark colored with paler lower face and slightly crooked horns. Tears were streaking from their red-orange eyes as well, and though their smile was shyer, it was no less genuine than the human’s. 

Tselah shot Nalitalvon and Yarethelah a grin in turn before dropping their hands, dashing over to the pair, who were using each other as support to stand. The crowd was dissipating, concern and curiosity over the two strangers easing when Nalitalvon and Yarethelah’s approaching presence gave them legitimacy, reassuring the curious that they would be attended to. The mates watched as Tselah bounded up to the pair, the Intseh- Ashivon- gathering them up into a hug and the human ruffling his headfur fondly. Tselah babbled to them for a moment, and then like they had Nalitalvon and Yarethelah, grabbed their hands, drawing them closer, within speaking distance. 

“Daschev, Taschev, this is Ashivon and Sanga!” Tselah introduced them gushingly. “They rescued me from the bad people and brought me home!” 

The two strangers’ smiles dimmed a little as they were led forward, the reservedness of someone who doesn’t know what sort of welcome to expect, but they followed Tselah willingly enough. The human spoke for them both, in the human language. “ _ H-Hello. _ ” 

Nalitalvon could stand it no longer. Their grin felt wide enough to burst off of their face, and they rushed forward to embrace the human, since they were closer. Nalitalvon had never embraced a human before, and was surprised to find they were oddly lumpy. Sanga made a startled noise, but reciprocated tentatively after a moment. 

“ _ You have brought our kit back to us _ ,” Nalitalvon declared, blinking away a new set of tears, happy ones this time. They pulled back from the bewildered human to treat Ashivon to the same, though they let go quicker when Ashivon merely went stiff and didn’t reciprocate at all, clearly uncomfortable. Tselah was right, they were strange. Nalitalvon had never known an Intseh to be touch-shy. Waving away the unimportant thoughts, Nalitalvon declared, “ _ We can never truly repay you, but please, let us try! Come, come, let us feed you and hear your story. _ ” 

The pair exchanged a look, eventually nodding and relaxing just a little. Once again, it was Sanga who answered for them. “ _ We’d love to. _ ” 

Tselah led the way, skipping over the cobblestones in excitement, babbling about their return journey in rapid-fire anecdotes, switching seemingly randomly between Intsehli and the human tongue, Tali’han. Apparently he had learned some Tali'han on the way. It was obvious Ashivon didn’t speak much Intsehli, and Sanga none at all, so Nalitalvon stuck to Tali’han out of politeness. They weren’t an expert at it, but they were conversational- handy when it came to the human traders that sometimes visited the market- and able to provide some translations both ways. Yarethelah, dear soul, didn’t speak a lick of Tali’han so was in the same boat as Sanga, if a different side of the keel, but Nalitalvon could tell their mate didn’t care a bit. They couldn’t blame Yarethelah; their lost kit was returned. Sanga and Ashivon could speak in tongues for all they cared. 

Ishotselah was in the courtyard when Tselah came charging in, shouting at the top of his lungs, “TSAHV!” 

Ishotselah dropped their basket of washing, jaw dropping open and hands immediately reaching for Tselah. “HEH!” they cried in bewildered joy, their own eyes growing wet as they clutched Tselah to their bosom. “Oh my little gods, Tselah!” 

Their cry brought forth the others, popping up from the various doorways, and shortly, the entire family was gathered; Nalitalvon and Yarethelah happily joined the impromptu snuggle session with Tselah at the center. Tears, words, and touches flowed freely from all directions in a happy din. 

Vrahlahvon swept Tselah up, the eldest of their kits laughing uproariously as they lifted their younger sibling high over their head, then lowered them to nuzzle their snouts affectionately. “Tselfafa, how’d you get back?” 

Tselah pointed, beaming sunnily. “Ashivon and Sanga!” 

The pair had lingered in the entryway of the courtyard, gripping each others’ hands and shifting nervously, clearly feeling out of place. True to their usual way, Ishotselah was having none of that, marching up to them and pulling them both into a hug, one in each arm. “All Gods great and small, bless your kits,” they cried, nuzzling first Ashivon then Sanga like they were their own kitkits. “As you have returned ours to us.” Ashivon seemed frozen, completely unresponsive to the affection, and Sanga merely bewildered. Ishotselah graciously pretended not to notice, pulling back only to pull them forward, deeper into the courtyard. “Come, come, please, let us feed you! Vrahva, Kahva, the table! Ahnva, Ishva-” 

Shortly, as they were wont to do, Ishotselah had everyone working in a carefully controlled chaos, barking orders like a general. Nalitalvon chuckled, drifting to their guests’ side to ease their tension a little. 

“ _ Forgive my mate-parent, _ ” they entreated lightly, guiding both Ashivon and Sanga to take seats on the cushions that their two eldest had arranged around the table that had sprouted up in the shade of the awning. “ _ They are... over-eager. _ ” 

Sanga offered them a wry smile, shaking their head. “ _ Don’t worry about it. It’s rather sweet, actually. _ ” The human laughed lightly. “ _ To be honest, we were a little worried what kind of welcome we would find here. But I can see you have a good family. Tselah is very lucky. _ ” 

Nalitalvon smiled. “ _ Thank you, Sahnka. Tselah is lucky to have you, too. _ ” 

The human’s face turned a darker color, and Nalitalvon’s ears perked up in curiosity, but refrained from asking, since it was probably rude. What strange creatures humans were! They wondered if they could turn other colors. 

Finally, a small feast was laid out, their family gathered around. Tselah chose to sit beside Ashivon, in between the still tense stranger and Yarethelah, and quickly made introductions as the food- Yarethelah’s signature hearty goldenscale stew- was served. “ _ Ashivon, Sanga, this is my family! _ ” they burst. “ _ This is my Daschev, Taschev, Teshvo Ishotselah, and my brothers, Vrahlahvon, Kahanla, Ishohsivon, and Ahnshiovon! _ ” Nearly wiggling with excitement, they added, “ _ Daschev is gonna have a baby! I’ma be a  _ big sibling _ soon! _ ” 

Sanga blinked, stiffening and going colors again. “ _ Oh _ ,” they exclaimed softly. “ _ Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed.. _ .” 

Tselah tilted their head to the side, prodding gently when they trailed off into embarrassed silence, “ _ What _ ?” 

The human laughed, a tinge of embarrassment to their tone. “ _ I thought Nalitalvon was your mother, _ ” they explained, then turned sheepishly to Nalitalvon. “ _ I apologize, I assumed. I know I shouldn’t, Saint knows I’ve been on the receiving end of such judgement before. Forgive me _ .” 

Nalitalvon laughed, waving it away. “ _ No harm done! When you have mates with such close coloration, it can be a challenge to tell who is whose! No, Yarethelah bore Tselah, and I bore Ishohsivon. The rest of our brood was borne by our third. _ ” A flash of old pain flickered in Nalitalvon’s chest, as it always did when speaking of their long-lost heart, but Mihraleh would have wanted to thank these kind strangers too; Nalitalvon could share Mihraleh’s memory with them. 

Both Ashivon and Sanga went still, confusion flitting over their faces. “... _ what _ ?” Sanga asked. “ _ You are both...? _ ” 

Nalitalvon raised an eyebrow, meeting their confusion with their own. “ _ But of course. _ ” 

Ishoteslah chuckled, shaking their head. “Human silliness.  _ Intseh are not like humans _ ,” they explained patiently, their Tali’han rougher than Nalitalvon’s but still passable. “ _ Hasn’t your mate there explained these things? _ ” 

Sanga’s cheeks went darker, and Ashivon seemed to curl in on themself. “ _ W-we’re not mates _ ,” Sanga protested. 

“ _ Oh, forgive _ ,” Ishoteslah chuckled, raising their hands in soothing supplication, though their eyes gleamed with amusement that was echoed in Yarethelah when Tselah translated for them. Both Nalitalvon's mate and mate-parent found youthful shyness like theirs highly amusing. “ _ I didn’t realize you’re still courting. _ ” 

Sanga huffed. “ _ That’s not- _ ” 

“ _ Ugh, you’re all being gross!” _ Tselah groaned, rolling their eyes expansively. “ _ Davi and Nika already tried, Sanga and Ashivon are dumb! _ ” 

“ _ Are not! _ ” Sanga scoffed, rolling their eyes in turn and frowning down at Tselah, who merely stuck their tongue out in return and took advantage of the break in the conversation to launch into a spirited recounting of their perilous journey home. Sanga quickly overcame their irritation to join in, as exuberant a story-teller as Tselah, though more likely to veer off into a tangent. Regardless, the kits were all entranced, eagerly asking questions, oh-ing and ah-ing at appropriate intervals. Ashivon, on the other hand, contributed nothing to the stories despite being a central character in several, appearing content to simply sit and listen, eyes downcast as they ate. 

Finally, Ishohsivon and Ahnshiovon drew Tselah away from the table to play, the siblings refamiliarizing themselves with each other as they jumped and shoved and squealed, chasing each other about in the courtyard. Kahanla was pressed into service by Ishoteslah to help clear the empty plates and serve day-wine to the adults before going to join their younger siblings. Only Vrahlahvon remained at the table, lifting their chin defiantly when Nalitalvon raised an eyebrow at them, as if to declare  _ I’m an adult now too. I can sit in on the adult conversation and drink day-wine. _ Nalitalvon chuckled ruefully, shaking their head at their eldest kit, but did not protest. 

Sanga slipped from their place between Nalitalvon and Ashivon during a lull in the conversation to approach Yarethelah and kneel beside them. Nalitalvon’s mate turned to face them with a surprised expression. 

“ _ Forgive me if I’m being rude _ ,” Sanga opened with a self-depreciating smile, “ _ But I’m curious. I’m a healer by trade, you see- how far along are you? _ ” Pausing thoughtfully, they added, “ _ And how many moons does an Intseh pregnancy usually take? _ ” 

Ishoteslah chuckled, answering on their kit’s behalf. “ _ Ten moons it takes a kit to grow. Birthing time is right on the horizon. We always breed end of summer, birth at the beginning. _ ” 

Sanga nodded seriously, the calculating gleam in their eyes betraying their professional interest as genuine. “ _ I see. May I feel the child? _ ” They reached out, hand hovering over Yarethelah’s belly, but not making contact, eyes locked on Yarethelah’s. Waiting for permission. Nalitalvon decided they liked Sanga.

Yarethelah didn’t need any translation for that request, smiling fondly and nodding, placing their larger hand over Sanga’s and pressing their palm to their belly, leaning back so their belly was better presented for Sanga’s inspection. Sanga’s face lit up with a grin, their hands beginning to deftly move over the swell of their next kit, a steady stream of commentary flowing from their lips, barraging Ishoteshlah with questions. Ashivon watched them work attentively, their ears flicked up in curious interest as they listened to Sanga’s rapid chatter and Ishoteshlah’s patient answers. 

“You’d think Sanga had never encountered a pregnant person before,” Nalitalvon chuckled, shaking their head in amusement and sharing amused glances with Vrahlahvon and Ishoteslah. 

Ashivon glanced back at them, warily, then spoke for the first time. “Haven’t. Not Intseh pregnant person.” Ashivon’s voice was hoarse and quiet, like they didn’t speak much. Rusty like a little-used garden tool, and their Intsehli was rough, like a child’s. Like they were still learning the language. Nalitalvon blinked in surprise, both at the quality of their voice and the content of their words. 

“Are there no Insteh families where you come from?” Nalitalvon asked carefully, suddenly realizing that for all their stories of the places they had passed through on their way here, Sanga and Ashivon had yet to speak about the place they had come from, the place Tselah only called ‘the bad place’. Nalitalvon felt their stomach start to go sour. 

Ashivon shook their head sharply, eyes dropping to their hands, curled around their untouched cup. “Only me.  _ Divinity _ keep only one Intseh.” Their eyes flicked to Tselah still playing, some kind of bottomless, bittersweet relief flashing in their eyes. “Tselah taken to replace me. We save Tselah.” 

Nalitalvon felt creeping alarm at the halting explanation, sharing a glance with Vrahlahvon, who looked like they had had the same thought. 

If Tselah had been taken to replace Ashivon, Nalitalvon wondered with growing horror, had another kit been taken to replace Tselah? And replace them for  _ what _ ? 

Ashivon continued before either of them could respond, curious eyes flicking to Vrahlavon. “You not...” they struggled for a word in Intsehli, then gave up and switched to Tali’han. “ _ Your mother was someone else? _ ” 

Vrahlavon’s brow furrowed, taking a moment to parse the Tali’han, their grasp of the language less than Nalitalvon’s, but they eventually got it, answering as best they could in the same language. “ _ Yes. I born of  _ Faschev.” Sadness passed over their face, as it always did when the subject of Mihraleh came up. Nalitalvon and Yarethelah mourned their third like a wound, but the mourning was different for a kit, especially one that had been that delicate age that Vrahlavon and Kahanla had been when they passed; old enough to remember them clearly, young enough to lack the emotional resilience to mourn and let go cleanly. Nalitalvon’s eldest two kits would carry Mihraleh’s loss with them all their lives, like a lost limb; and like a lost limb, they had learned to live with their grief, work around it, but it would never truly heal. 

Nalitalvon reached across the table to take their hand, squeezing gently, earning a small smile of gratitude in return. Sparing Vrahlavon having to explain, Nalitalvon continued. " _ Mihraleh was the primary mother of our family. She died just after Tselah was born. Sweating sickness _ ." 

Ashivon frowned, guilt pouring into their eyes. " _ I'm sorry, I didn't mean _ -" 

" _ No harm done _ ," Nalitalvon assured them with a tight little smile. " _ It has been many years. If Mihraleh was here today, she would be just as grateful to you as we are. _ " 

Ashivon bit their lip uncertainly but nodded, accepting Nalitalvon’s words reluctantly and changing tacks slightly. “ _ You mentioned... Mihraleh... was your third. What is that? _ ” 

Vrahlavon snorted, a small smile flitting over their face. “Wow, Tselah wasn’t joking. You really don’t know anything, do you?” 

“ _ I was taken when I was younger than Tselah _ ,” Ashivon whispered, curling in on themselves again, making Sanga look to them with concern, though the human didn’t interrupt. “ _ I don’t remember much from... before, anymore. _ ” 

Silence fell over the table, all of them save Sanga gazing at Ashivon with shocked sorrow. The young Intseh ducked their head, staring at their hands, shoulders hunched and stiff. Sanga’s frown deepened, their hand finding Ashivon’s and squeezing soothingly. 

“ _ I-I’m sorry _ -” Ashivon husked out, falling silent when Ishoteslah crooned soothingly, shaking their head. 

“ _ Nothing to be sorry for,  _ kit _. Nothing at all _ .” They reached out over the table to touch Ashivon, offer comfort, but paused when they flinched, curling away from their hand and closer to Sanga. Slowly Ishoteslah withdrew, heartbreak in their dark gold eyes. They exchanged glances with Nalitalvon and Yarethelah, both sharing the feeling and unsure how to comfort an Intseh that was touch-shy, as Ashivon so obviously was. 

Finally, Nalitalvon took in a deep breath, and with forced levity, explained as lightly as they could, like they would to curious young kits, “ _ A third is the third partner in a marriage. While you may start with two, no family is complete without three. Three is the strongest number, the most balanced. _ ” Nalitalvon shrugged. “ _ Three can mean any mate in the relationship, but in conversation it’s used in reference to whoever isn’t currently present, or the third partner to come up in conversation. _ ” 

Ashivon spoke up, softly, deferentially. “ _ So Mihraleh is always your third, now? Because she’s gone? _ ” 

Nalitalvon nodded, flashing them a tight smile. “ _ Even gone, Mihraleh is still our wife. _ ” Nalitalvon’s eyes lifted to meet Yarethaleh’s, their mate’s gaze as sad as their own when Nalitalvon repeated themselves in Intsehli. A small, tired smile flashed over Yarethelah’s face as they nodded shallowly in agreement. 

“Even gone,” they echoed softly. Ishoteslah crooned softly in comfort. 

Shaking their head, Nalitalvon steered the topic away from Mihraleh. “ _ But enough of that sadness. Now that you have delivered our kit back to us, what will you do next? _ ” they asked curiously.

Ashivon frowned, and again made the effort to speak Intsehli. “Don’t know. Not thought that far yet.” Their gaze flicked to Sanga, searchingly. “ _ What’s next, Sanga? _ ” 

Sanga raised a disbelieving eyebrow, then grinned. “ _ We look for your family next, Ash. Tselah has gotten home safe; it’s your turn now. _ ” 

Vrahlavon blinked, ears flicking up in interest and interjecting again. “You have lost your family?” 

Ashivon nodded absently, looking bewildered at Sanga’s suggestion. “I remember... parents, a little. Mountain. But... nothing else.” They shrugged. “Don’t know where start.” 

Nalitalvon exchanged a look with their mate, and immediately recognized the gleam in Yarethelah’s eyes. They held back a sigh as their mate spoke. “The Council of Elders would be happy to spread word of your search,” they offered, drawing Ashivon’s attention. Yarethelah smiled warmly. “You would have been taken maybe.... Twelve winters ago? That’s not that long. Someone is bound to remember a kit going missing with no trace. Someone will know who you are. In the meantime, we would be glad to offer you both lodgings with us.” 

Both Sanga and Ashivon hesitated, Ashivon stiffening and Sanga looking to them briefly with concern. “ _ What did she say? _ ” Sanga asked, obviously confused. 

Nalitalvon translated for them when it became apparent Ashivon was too taken aback to respond. “ _ We would be happy to host you, _ ” they added, offering the human a welcoming smile when they hesitated still. 

“ _ That’s... very kind, _ ” Sanga replied slowly, cautiously, “ _ But it would probably be better for us to find a campsite. _ ” 

Vrahlavon frowned, sitting up straighter. “ _ What? How campsite... better? We have beds. Bath. Hot food. _ ” 

Sanga winced, glancing at the still silent Ashivon. “ _ As lovely as that all sounds, Ash is... uncomfortable with being indoors for long periods of time. He needs the sky over him, or he freaks out. _ ” Ashivon nodded slightly, shame clear in their posture. 

Nalitalvon exchanged another deeply concerned look with Yarethaleh. What in the seven seas...? 

Ishoteslah shrugged carelessly, suggesting pragmatically, “ _ Then we set up hammock, here in the courtyard. _ ” 

Vrahlavon brightened. “Yeah! That’s a great idea, Tsahvo!” 

Ashivon frowned, finally looking up from their hands. Curiously, they asked, “What’s a hammock?”

  
  
  


It took a few tries, between Sanga and Ashivon’s respective needs, but eventually they settled on a pair of fruit trees near the large, open window of the storeroom for the hammock, and the storeroom itself for Sanga’s cot. Technically the storeroom had the window to make it easier to pass things in and out of the storeroom when using the outdoor grill, but now it made a good compromise between Sanga sleeping inside on a spare cot and Ashivon sleeping outside in a large hammock, both still able to see each other while laying down. 

“Are you sure this is ok?” Yarethaleh asked again, wringing their hands and fretting a bit as they watched Nalitalvon and Vrahlavon clear a section of wall in the storeroom between two shelves that was currently stacked high with bags of grains. The space was a little tight, but the cot would slip neatly lengthwise against the wall and between the shelves. 

Ashivon, who was watching intently from the window, nodded. “Is good,” they soothed, offering Yarethelah a small, shy smile. 

Yarethelah sighed agitatedly. “I don’t know, it just feels... rude. To put you and your friend outside and in the storeroom. It’s so...” they scrunched up their nose. "Demeaning.” 

Ashivon’s smile turned bitter. “Used to worse.” 

Yarethelah frowned at them. “That doesn’t make it ok.” 

Nalitalvon chided lightly, “They said it’s fine, my soul. We must respect their wishes.” Yarethelah huffed. 

Ashivon blinked, and translated for a confused looking Sanga when they touched Ashivon’s elbow, making an inquisitive noise. Sanga blinked, then laughed merrily, their dark eyes sparkling as they shook their head. “ _ Tell her it’s fine, I promise. It’s really nice, actually. That they’re being so accommodating. _ ” 

Ash nodded and communicated this to Yarethelah, who sighed again but mustered up a small smile. “If you say so.” 

“They do say so,” Nalitalvon couldn’t resist teasing, snickering at Yarethelah’s put-out half-glare. 

Tselah’s bright giggling drew everyone’s attention next, the adults all pausing to look and see the kit perilously perched in the newly hung hammock, swinging wildly. Nalitalvon chuckled and shook their head, returning to their task, but Yarethelah drifted closer to the window with a fond smile. 

Tselah grinned widely at Sanga and Ashivon as they cautiously approached the hammock, curious more than wary. Apparently they didn’t have hammocks where they came from, but Tselah was more than happy to educate them, enthusiastically demonstrating how to mount, dismount, and lay in one, how to use one’s bodyweight to control the momentum of the swinging, how to adjust it so it was more bench than bed. 

Yarethaleh carefully lowered themselves onto the step just under the window with a sigh, leaning against the windowsill as they watched, amused when Sanga approached too wildly and ended up flipping it, dumped on the ground for their troubles. Ashivon went tense, fluffing a bit in alarm, but Sanga and Tselah just laughed, Sanga brushing the dust off and trying again. 

Eventually, Tselah and Sanga managed to get Ashivon into it. They were stiff, uncertain, but when they found the center of balance, and the gentle swing became soothing rather than perilous, Ashivon’s smile was almost as bright at Tselah’s. 

Leaving the two adults to continue familiarizing themselves with the new furniture and talk to each other in that human language, Tselah trotted over to Yarethaleh, still grinning. Yarethelah chuckled, reaching out to gently stroke their face and cup their chin, bringing their kit close for a fond nuzzle. It was still so surreal to be able to touch their firstborne again. Yarethelah vowed never to take it for granted again. 

“You do well to be so kind,” Yarethelah praised warmly. “You live up to your name, Tselfa.” 

Tselah glowed at the praise. “Thanks, Daschev.” Some of their happiness faded, replaced with faint concern as they looked back to Sanga and Ashivon. “Daschev, can we help Ashivon?” 

Yarethelah frowned. No kit should ever sound so worried about an adult, it was backwards, and sat wrong in Yarethelah’s heart. But the worst part was Yarethelah couldn’t even really fault Tselah’s concern; what little Yarethelah had glimpsed so far from the young Intseh was worrying enough, and Tselah had been their companion for  _ moons _ . Little Gods knew what they had seen. “What’s wrong with Ashivon?” they asked gently. 

Tselah bit their lip, hugging themselves uncertainly, and they went eagerly into Yarethelah’s arms when they gave in to the urge to pick them up and lift them over the sill onto their lap, purring comfortingly. “It’s alright, Tselfafa,” Yarethelah cooed, nuzzling right between their horns. “I promise we will do everything we can. But we need to know how to help.” 

Tselah made a soft sound of distress, absently curling carefully around Yarethelah’s belly, hands lightly stroking the shape of their younger sibling. “Ashivon’s all messed up inside,” they confessed quietly. “The bad Divinity people who took me away, they hurt Ashivon. A lot. Sanga and Ashivon won’t tell me anything, but... I heard them talking a little. When they thought I was asleep.” Tselah whimpered softly, burrowing deeper into Yarethelah’s embrace, and Yarethelah felt their heart sink. “Ashivon has a... a thing, on his arm. It can make him do bad things. Ashivon wanted Sanga to cut it off, but Sanga wouldn’t. Said he’d bleed too much and die. He cried.” 

Yarethelah went cold. 

Tselah continued. “Ashivon cries a lot. When they rescued me, we ran for a long time, all night, and when we finally stopped, the first thing Ashivon did was cry. When we scare them, Ashivon always cries. When they have a bad night, Ashivon cries. Sanga says that crying is all Ashivon could do for a long time, so it’s their way now.” 

Anxiously, their fingers picked at the fabric of Yarethelah’s shirt. “Ashivon doesn’t know about simple stuff. They’re really shy, and scared of humans, except Sanga. They don’t cuddle or nuzzle, not even with Sanga. They can’t sleep inside. They don’t talk really, and I had to teach them Intsehli words.” Their picking grew more insistent, distress creeping into their voice. “And sometimes they get scary. When they have a bad dream, or someone barks at them, or touches them and Ashivon doesn’t want them to, they show their teeth and claws and-” Tselah shivered. “You can’t touch Ashivon when they’re like that, or they’ll hurt you. They hurt Sanga one time when they tried to wake Ashivon up from a bad dream.” 

Gently, Tselah raked their claws over their own forearm, in demonstration. Yarethelah couldn’t help but look over at Sanga, who had managed to slip into the hammock with Ashivon, head to feet, the two grinning as they talked. For the first time, Yarethelah really noticed the long fingerless gloves Sanga wore, completely covering their forearms. They also noticed that while Ashivon allowed the human to be there, and still smiled, they were almost cringing away from where their bodies were pressed together. Shame and relief warred in their eyes. 

“Ashivon doesn’t  _ want _ to hurt you when they’re like that,” Tselah added urgently, obviously having noticed Yarethelah’s look and interpreted it incorrectly. “When they hurt Sanga, they cried so much. They thought Sanga would go away, but Sanga didn’t. Sanga says that when Ashivon is like that, they’ve forgotten they’re not in the bad place anymore, that they’re not going to get hurt and don’t have to hurt people. But they’re not mean-!” 

“Shh, no, I’m sure Ashivon isn’t mean,” Yarethelah interrupted gently, soothing their upset kit with a nuzzle and resuming their purr. “Though I think you’re right, I think Ashivon is very hurt.” So hurt, Yarethelah wasn’t sure it was even possible to help Ashivon. Not if their closest companion was unable to reach them. 

“But family’s the best medicine, right, Daschev?” Tselah pressed, big, wet eyes looking up at Yarethelah, looking much younger than ten. “Family helps.” 

Yarethelah smiled firmly for their kit, trying their best to exude reassurance. “Of course. Tomorrow we’ll take them to the Council, and we’ll start looking for Ashivon’s family.” Yarethelah nuzzled noses with their kit, pressing their foreheads together, hugging them close. “We’ll help Ashivon. I promise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So I found "Church" and "Heaven" about two weeks ago, and was attacked by a vorpal rabbit of a plot bunny. Went through all of the tumblr stuff, all of the fics here on AO3, and the google doc of cannon, and came out the other end with a fully developed plot, which NEVER happens to me. So please enjoy the fruit of my insomnia. For clarification: 
> 
> Taschev- second parent, Nalitalvon. In the ending of Heaven, the smaller one in the longer tunic.  
> Daschev- third parent, Yarethelah. In the ending of Heaven, the larger one that looks kinda like a cow.  
> Tsahv/o- gramps/grandparent, Ishotselah. One of Yarethelah's parents. Looks a lot like Yarethelah but no horns.  
> Faschev- first parent, Mihraleh. Will only be referenced in this story.  
> Tselah has four elder siblings, Vrahlahvon(20), Kahanla(17), Ishohsivon(12), and Ahnshiovon(12). I have further details about them all if you want them, but they will mostly be revealed over the course of the story. 
> 
> Plain text dialogue, unless noted otherwise, is Intsehli, italicized dialogue is Tali'han. 
> 
> If you have any questions about my personal headcannon and how/why it's different than the mainline cannon, feel free to leave a comment. I'm trying not to just explain everything in fic to avoid bogging down the narrative and practice "showing not telling", but everything has a reason even if I don't explain it in the fic itself. Please don't be shy with criticisms or suggestions of any kind. 
> 
> PS I have no idea what to name this thing, if you have idea feel free to shout it out.


	2. The Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashivon and Sanga tentatively begin the next step of their journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plain text is Tali'han, italics are Intsehli.

Ashivon settled in his hammock with a sigh. It really was surprisingly comfortable, much more than the hard ground of a campsite. Especially after Yarethelah had pressed a pillow and quilt on him with a plea to ‘please don’t make me feel like a worse host than I already do’. He wasn’t used to having a blanket, the fabric feeling entrapping, so simply lay on top of it, letting it gather his warmth and insulate him from below, though he was pleased with the pillow. 

To be fair, his standards were pretty low, he mused with dark amusement. 

Everyone else had turned in for the evening, the courtyard shadowy and still. One by one, lights had been extinguished inside, until the only light left was a small lamp in the storeroom, near Sanga’s bed. 

A soft noise from the storeroom drew his attention away from the stars, visible above the rooftops. Sanga strolled into the room, rubbing a piece of fabric over her loose hair and humming happily. She was dressed only in short trousers that gathered at the knee and her chest wrap, all her markings and scars on full display. Ashivon’s eye was immediately drawn to her arm, where the ragged scars from his claws were still a dark pink, breaking up the lines of her wrist-bands. He felt the familiar guilt pang in his chest. 

Sanga looked at him, sensing his gaze, and grinned, letting the fabric fall off her head and gather on her shoulders. “Hey, Ash,” she greeted him warmly. Ash mustered up a smile for her. 

As usual, Sanga didn’t mind that he didn’t reply, just going to their shared travel-sack that had been thrown on her cot and beginning to dig through it. “Man, I had forgotten how great baths are. New rule: next time we go on a multi-moon road trip, I’m taking a long, _long_ bath first. And budgeting enough money for an inn at least once a week. Cold streams suck.” 

Ash hummed noncommittally as he watched her drag a long-sleeved shirt from the pack, slipping it on, and then her hair comb. She turned to him again, still smiling, and came to sit on the step-bench under the window, half-turned toward him as she began to briskly comb her hair. “We should get you in a bath too.” 

Ash tensed. He knew she didn’t mean it that way, but the word immediately brought up dozens of memories, all of them awful. He had met Sanga again when he was ‘having a bath’. 

Sanga immediately seemed to understand where his thoughts had went, her tone going contrite and soothing. “Oh, no, Ash. Not a rinse-down like Carnius and the others would give you. I promise, not like that.” 

Ash forced himself to breathe, to drag his mind from the painful past, and focus on his friend. Sanga smiled for him still, and he returned it. “It’s ok,” he murmured, then shook his head. “But... it’s inside. I don’t... you know I can’t do inside.” 

Sanga’s smile went sad. “I know.” She shook her head too, resuming her work with the comb. “It’s ok. We’ll work it out. Hopefully before you start smelling.” She wrinkled her nose at him, teasing, and Ash snorted obligingly. She changed the subject. 

“I still can’t believe we finally made it,” she sighed. “Tselah’s finally home. Safe and sound. It’s so weird, that’s been our goal for so long, it doesn’t feel... real, you know?” She set down the comb, raking her fingers through her hair to begin pulling it back for a twisted gather, like she usually wore it these days. “His family seems really nice. So that’s nice. I know Divinity was all wrong about Intseh, I know that now, but I wasn’t really expecting... this. You know? His moms, they’re really great. And his brothers too. They remind me-” 

Ash softly cut her off with the question that had been burning on his tongue since she proposed it at the meal. “Do you think my parents are out there?” Ashivon swallowed dryly, tacking on softer, “Do you think they would really welcome me back?” 

“Of course.” Sanga’s tone was firm, his friend shaking her head, steely resolve in her eyes. “Of course they are. They’re out there and they will be just as happy to see you as Tselah’s parents were to see him.” 

Ash closed his eyes. “You can’t know that.” His hand curled around his forearm, right where his brand sat. Hoarser, he admitted, “I’m a murderer.” 

“No, Ash,” Sanga insisted, and he could hear her clothes rustling, undoubtedly reaching out to him, and he cringed away from that unseen hand, even though the window was too far away for her to actually touch him without climbing out. She didn’t touch him, but she did continue to speak. “You are _not_ a murderer, Ash. The sinners... we didn’t send you people that weren’t proven guilty-” 

“What about the child?” Ash demanded, voice harsh. “What about the brothers and sisters we killed to escape?” 

Sanga fell silent. 

  
  
  


The next morning, as usual, Sanga woke just as the sun was cresting over the horizon, a lifetime of habit causing her to blink sleepily awake when the sky began to lighten. For a moment, she was confused- why was she in a bed? She hadn’t slept in a bed since Divinity- until her gaze alighted on the familiar face of Ash, serene in sleep, curled in his hammock. 

Reminded of the events of the previous day, Sanga smiled, allowing herself a few minutes to relish the warmth of bedclothes, the security of safe haven, and the relief of seeing her friend safe. 

Finally, she drew herself up, slipping out of her bed. _Laziness is weakness_ , the voice of Sister Gilla echoed from the back of her mind. _The sun is up, you should be up_. 

Sanga stretched up onto her tiptoes, reaching for the ceiling, breathing deep and slow, feeling lungs expand and contract as she slowly woke up. Once awake enough to have proper mindfulness, she knelt on the floor, bowing low and pressing her forehead to the floor, curling her arms over her head, murmuring the Morning Prayer. 

“Saint,” she whispered into the stone floor, “Mother of all, guide and bless my path this day. If I err, set me on the path to righteousness. If I falter, send me strength. Protect me and mine from evil, and I lay my soul at your feet.” Not for the first or, she hoped, the last time, Sanga could swear she felt lighter after saying the prayer, and smiled as she rose. 

On silent feet, she gathered her washing-things from the pack and padded to the washroom, where she took advantage of having both a washbasin and a mirror to properly perform her morning cleansing rituals, cleaning teeth, forearms, and face, then combing and neatening her hair after sleep. It fell almost to her shoulders now; she should probably cut it soon. Just so it didn’t get in the way. 

Feeling refreshed, she wandered back to her bed and slipped into some fresh clothes, then the fingerless gloves Ameqa had given her. Briefly, she felt a flash of guilt; both their guides had been so kind to them, but they hadn’t had a proper goodbye. She should have at least thanked the older women. 

If not for their safe passage, then for their push. 

Prepared for her day, Sanga went to the window, copying what she had observed several of the Verselehr clan do and stepping onto the step under the window, then the sill, ducking through the large window onto the corresponding step on the other side easily. It was made to accomodate people much larger than herself, so she had no issue fitting through the window. The courtyard had several similar windows, most blocked off with either wood shutters or thick draping curtains; the storeroom had a wood shutter that was currently set aside. The courtyard was rather beautiful, she mused to herself. She had thought so the previous day, but without the distractions of others and her own whirling brain struggling to keep up with events, just the cool stillness of early dawn, she was able to appreciate the octagonal space much better. 

The ground was complex stonework, natural colorations in the stone making gorgeous patterns, worn smooth by years of foot traffic. On each of the eight walls was either a window or an arched doorway, the doorways opening primarily onto hallways, one larger one connecting the courtyard to the street. Overhead was a wide-set latticework of wood beams, from which awnings could be hung; currently the only one was stretched over the section where Ash’s trees were. Trees and stone planters filled with fragrant herbs ringed the courtyard, softening the stone. Birdsong trilled in the air. It was so peaceful. 

It reminded her somewhat of the courtyard Ash’s cage had sat in, where she had taught him the Hand of the Divine. A smile stretched her mouth. Carefully, she approached him, calling softly, “Ash.” 

Red eyes opened at her call, Ash blinking sleepily. “Mmh?” he grumbled in acknowledgement, rubbing the heel of a hand against his eye to clear the sand from it. As usual, he was slower to wake than her. One of the few benefits of being the Executioner; you get to sleep in as much as you want, most days. 

Sanga bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, feeling the smooth, cool stone against the bare bottoms of her feet, familiar restless energy beginning to course under her skin, as it always did. “Kata?” she asked eagerly. 

That caused Ash to wake fully, her Intseh friend smiling and nodding, rising from his bed and slipping off his shirt. 

Together, they stretched, warming up cold muscles, then fell into the kata. Ash had improved in leaps and bounds since they began their journey, ever since they started doing katas in the mornings when they weren’t in a rush to continue moving. Teaching him was vastly easier now, Sanga able to verbally coach him since she was no longer forbidden to speak to him, point out things he didn’t quite catch just watching; but today, she didn’t need to speak, Ash mirroring her movements through the eighth kata perfectly. 

Well. As perfectly as such a vastly physically different creature could. Absently, she mused about what she might need to learn to ply her trade amongst the Intseh. Some things were universal, of course- blood outside the body is bad was a pretty safe assumption, for example- but would Yarethelah and other pregnant Intseh need similar care as a human woman in the last months of pregnancy? She didn’t show as much as a human would, despite how developed her child felt; was that normal, or just Yarethelah? She had so many questions. 

Just as the sky was lightening from pink to blue, they finished, bowing shallowly to each other with cheeky grins, breathing hard but controlled. Sanga returned to her bed, fetching forth their travel pack for Ash so he could do his own morning routine and dress in fresh clothing. By the time he was done, Yarethelah appeared, smiling warmly and saying something in Intsehli. 

Ash smiled and replied haltingly, then turned to her. “Breakfast is ready.” 

Sanga nodded. “Are you good to go inside or should I bring you some?” Ash hesitated, and that was all the answer she really needed, Sanga flashing him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back.” Ash flashed her a grateful smile. 

She followed Yarethelah through one of the doorways and to a dining room, where most of the family was already gathered, in various states of wakefulness. Nalitalvon and Vrahlavon were both missing, but no one seemed to be concerned. Breakfast was some kind of hot cereal, mixed with chunks of sausage and served with bread. Sanga gratefully accepted two bowls, and sheepishly explained to Ishoteslah (the only one present at the moment she knew could speak Tali’han), “I hope it isn’t rude if I take some to Ashivon?” 

Ishoteslah smiled and shook their head. “No. You see to your _sweetheart, kit_. Yarethelah will be along soon to take you to Council.” 

Sanga nodded, not quite sure what Ishoteslah had called her and Ash but not really caring, and taking the bowls back out to the courtyard, where Ash had relocated back to his hammock again, now sitting in it, his legs crossed as he contemplated his hands. She handed him one of the bowls, seating herself on the step under her window, and they both dug into breakfast, which was delicious. One thing Sanga was rapidly realizing the longer she was out of the church; her food had been bland all her life. It was a sin how few spices the monks and nuns used in their cooking. Actually, probably the reverse according to them. Wryly, she wondered if the real criteria for something being ‘sinful’ was simply being pleasant. 

Yarethelah appeared as promised a little while later, Tselah trailing after her, dressed in the tunics and pants common here rather than the ill-fitting traveling clothes they had become used to seeing him in. She and Ash both smiled at him, their little rescue grinning back and translating for his mother. “Come on! The morning Council meeting will start soon!” 

So they followed Yarethelah and Tselah along cobblestone streets, lined with archways leading to similar courtyards as the one in the Verselehr home. As they walked, Sanga couldn’t help but peer curiously in, catching glimpses and scenes of bustling morning domesticity. 

They finally approached a grand building, all tall columns and intricately carved arches. Intseh in slightly finer clothing than Yarethelah and her family wore bustled about, or stood talking in groups of two to five, holding spirited debates and serene discussions alike. 

Ash hesitated to enter, and Sanga grasped his hand, squeezing soothingly; Tselah and Yarethelah both waited patiently. Thankfully, Ash seemed to steel himself, and entered, still gripping Sanga’s hand tightly. 

A few did double-takes at Sanga and Ashivon, but none tried to bar their way or question them. Yarethelah sought out an Intseh in a draping tunic that only hung on one shoulder, a book in their hands that they hurriedly scribbled in after speaking with Yarethelah before bustling off. 

Next Yarethelah lead them into a large, open, circular room with a circular window in the ceiling, letting in the morning sunshine. A circle of twelve chairs, a few occupied by distinguished looking Intseh discussing things in hushed tones with small groups of what Sanga assumed were aids or acolytes of some kind, but most empty, sat in the center of the room; along the perimeter of the room were stone benches. It was to one of these benches Yarethelah led them, gently guiding them to sit upon it and then slipping a satchel Sanga hadn’t really taken note of from her shoulder. From the satchel, she produced, to Sanga’s shock, a slate. 

Tselah groaned, slumping with a pout, but accepted the slate and chalk anyway, as well as a thin book that Yarethelah opened to a page of what looked to be arithmetic, the child beginning to scratch away at the slate, consulting the book every so often. 

Giving a satisfied little nod, Yarethelah reached into the satchel again, this time pulling out another book, presenting it to Sanga and Ashivon with a proud smile. 

Sanga felt herself wilt in direct proportion to Ash brightening. “Oh Saint,” she groaned, recognizing a reading primer. “Heaven preserve me- Ash, tell her not to bother, I’m no good at letters. You’re the smart one.” 

Ash shot her a dry frown. “You’re not dumb, Sanga,” he insisted- errantly, in her opinion. “I’ll help you.” Yarethelah asked a question Sanga didn’t understand, their face pinched in what Sanga hoped was confusion and not offense. Ash quickly replied, huffing in exasperation. Yarethelah laughed, then offered her a reassuring smile, flipping open the book. 

Despite herself, Sanga found herself drawn into the lesson. The primer wasn’t like the ones the church used to teach letters, those thrice-cursed books all cramped, plain text and endlessly repeating sentences of boring drivel. This book had _pictures_ , and it told a simple (if silly) story, apparently designed to teach the Intsehli alphabet and numbers. The text was large and simply rendered, making it easy to follow as Yarethelah slowly sounded out the words, Ash translating what he already knew for her. 

Despite it all, though, Sanga felt her attention slipping after only a little while. Longer than she ever managed with Divinity’s reading primers, but still. She caught herself fidgeting, and ruthlessly forced herself to re-focus. Her knuckles tingled in phantom pain, even though she was fairly certain Yarethelah was not the type to switch. 

Yarethelah noticed, frowning softly in concern and asking her a question that Ash translated with a concerned frown of his own. “Are you ok?” 

Sanga nodded shortly, answering tersely. “Yep. Fine.” 

Ash’s frown deepened. “Is your mind wandering?” he asked, gently. Of course he knew what was going on, he had been the only one she ever fully explained what happened in her head to, those long-ago days when she would sit by the bars of his dark little cell and pour out her sadness and frustrations to him, listening to his in turn. Only he knew her private shame. 

Sanga grimaced but nodded. “It’s fine, I’ve got it under control.” 

Ash told Yarethelah something in Intsehli, making Yarethelah frown. She started to speak, but was interrupted by a call that echoed around the chamber. Suddenly the chamber was full, Sanga unable to see the circle of chairs anymore through all the Intseh- why were all Intseh so tall? Even Nalitalvon had an inch or two on her. She had never been tall, but she had never felt so short either! 

Yarethelah seemed to have decided to put her thoughts and questions aside for now, quickly gathering up the schooling supplies and leading them into the crowd, the crowd parting obligingly to allow their little train to the front of the crowd. Once there, Yarethelah and Ashivon stood side-by-side, Yarethelah corralling Tselah to stand in front of them, Sanga taking her example from them and shifting to stand in front of Ash. 

It took several minutes, but eventually the crowd’s murmurs quieted, and one of the council members opened the session. Naturally, Sanga didn’t understand a word, but she tried to pay attention anyway as a pattern was established; an Intseh or group of Intseh would step to the center of the circle of chairs, speak, the councilors would ask questions, sometimes with commentary or questions posed by the crowd as well. There would be several minutes at least of debate, some more spirited than the rest, then the Intseh would leave and another would take their place, and the whole cycle would begin again. Sanga noticed the tunic-wearing Intseh with the book Yarethelah had spoken to earlier, sitting near one of the councilors on the floor, making notes and scratching items off a list as they went; apparently they were a record keeper or schedule keeper of some kind, possibly both. Sighing, Sanga rocked on her heels and waited for their turn. 

  
  
  


Ashivon felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. There were too many people, too much building, all pressing around him. He kept his eyes trained on the bit of sky above, visible through the window; trying his best to not turn and tear his way out, striking down anyone who may prevent him from leaving, might try to _trap_ him here- 

Sanga’s hand slipped into his, and he looked down at her face. She had her head tilted back, looking up at him with understanding eyes and a small smile. She squeezed his hand gently, reassuring, and Ash did his best to smile for her. 

“ _The next audience in the agenda.... Yarethelah Verselehr?_ ” the secretary, whom Ashivon had gathered was called Khasvilih, called. 

Yarethelah gently steered Tselah to Sanga’s side, then gestured for him to follow. Hesitantly, he did, feeling his apprehension increase when her hand slipped from his. 

He followed Yarethelah to the center of the circle like the several audiences before them, his host inclining her head respectfully when she came to a stop. “ _Elders._ ” 

“ _Welcome, Yarethelah,_ ” One of the councilors returned Yarethelah’s greeting warmly. “ _The Council has heard your youngest has been returned to you. We are greatly pleased to know young Tselah has been returned to your family._ ” 

Yarethelah nodded. “ _As are we._ ” 

“ _Tell us,_ ” another councilor spoke, “ _How did this minor miracle come to be? And what became of your kit all those months?_ ” 

Yarethelah frowned. “ _Teselah was stolen, by humans. With evil magic._ ” 

Gasps and murmurs swept through the chamber, and the din sounded too much like a faint version of the crowd in the arena. Ashivon fought the urge to run again. Yarethelah continued. 

“ _Tselah was saved, and returned to us, by this person, Ashivon,_ ” Yarethelah waved a hand in his direction, making him flinch, “ _And their human companion, Sanga._ ” 

The murmurs grew louder. Ashivon felt himself start to tremble as the collective attention turned to him. 

“ _Tell us, young one,_ ” one of the elders inquired, gently. “ _What is your family name?_ ” 

Ashivon swallowed, but forced himself to answer as evenly as he could. “ _I don’t... know it._ ” 

“ _Don’t know it?_ ” Another repeated, incredulously. “ _How could you not know it?_ ” 

Ash cast his gaze up to the sky, breathing deeply. _I can leave if I want, they’re not going to tell me to... they won’t make me hurt anyone,_ he reminded himself firmly. _This isn’t the arena._ “ _Long ago, when I younger than Tselah, humans took me. Took me too young to remember._ ” 

“ _But why?_ ” came from someone in the crowd. Ashivon felt his hands clench, his jaw work, his breathing speed; how could he even _begin_ to explain-

“Ash.” 

He whipped around to see Sanga and Tselah, still standing on the edge of the crowd. Tselah looked concerned, almost frightened, but Sanga smiled reassuringly, holding out a hand. With a rush of relief, he darted to her, uncaring of the now dull roar of the other people in the room, desperately clasping her hand. Tselah edged out from between them, allowing her to draw him close, which she did easily, Ashivon curling into her solid shoulder gratefully, hiding from the stares and whispers in her shoulder. Her other hand cupped the back of his head, holding him to her, while the one still in his hand squeezed gently. 

“Shh, I got you, big guy,” she murmured soothingly in his ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll punch them all for you if one of them even thinks of laying a finger on you. I promise. I’m _done_ letting people hurt you.” 

Ashivon laughed wetly. Good old Sanga. Finally, he felt collected enough to rise, still on edge, but no longer feeling trapped. 

Sanga smiled, her gaze searching. “You ok now?” 

Ash opened his mouth to answer, found he couldn’t push out the words. Closed his mouth and shrugged instead. 

Sanga’s smile faltered a little. “No words right now, huh?” Ashivon winced but nodded. She nodded in return, then turned to Tselah. “Do the councilors speak Tali’han?” 

“Dunno. Probably?” Tselah shrugged, and Sanga nodded. Keeping her hand firmly in Ashivon’s, she lifted her chin stubbornly and marched to where Yarethelah was still standing, looking as concerned as Tselah had. 

Sanga planted herself in the center, then copied the shallow bow Yarethelah had performed. “Honored Councilors,” she greeted them, deferentially. “Sorry to address you in my language, but I don’t yet know enough Intsehli to converse with you. Please bear with me.” 

There was a beat of silence, then one of the councilors spoke. “Very well,” they replied in heavily accented Tali’han. “But please speak slowly, we are not as versed in your language as you.” 

Sanga nodded. “Fair. My name is Sanga. Until about five moons ago, I was Sister Sanga Sampher, nun of the Children of Divinity.” Without shame, she lowered the neck of her shirt, displaying her cut source-mark. There was another round of gasps. She continued. “And until five moons ago, Ashivon was our Executioner.” 

Stunned silence greeted her announcement. Ashivon flinched to hear his old title, but Sanga’s hand in his kept him from bolting. 

Barely, but it did. 

A councilor spoke, breaking the silence. “Forgive. We are not... familiar with the Children of Divinity. Or the role of... executioner.” 

Sanga snorted. But she pressed on, fearlessly, because Sanga was good at that. “The Children of Divinity are Saintites. Like all Saintites, we believe murder is the worst crime, the worst _sin_ , someone can commit. While other sects have their way of punishing these sinners, we find murder punishable only by death.” She glanced back, and Ashivon followed her gaze, finding the still worried, wide gaze of Tselah. She continued. “To spare young and innocent ears, I will not go into details, but suffice it to say, Ashivon served us many years, punishing these sinners. At first I just found it distasteful,” she shrugged with a little grimace, “But when I realized my friend was being hurt worse than any sinner he struck down, we escaped, and brought Tselah with us.” 

“ _Why does Ashivon not tell us this themselves?_ ” 

Sanga faltered for the first time, clearly off-put at being asked something in Intsehli, but when a councilor repeated it for her in Tali’han, she firmed again. “Ashivon’s time with us has left him... scarred. In more ways than physical.” She shrugged. “To be blunt, he finds this difficult to talk about. I find it... less so. Call it division of labor.” 

There were scattered, weak chuckles. Another councilor spoke. “This is a tragic story,” they said, regretfully. “I assume you come before us looking for assistance finding young Ashivon’s family? Returning him to his home?” 

Sanga glanced up at him, and Ashivon nodded slightly. He had thought about it long and hard last night; he had to at least _try_. Sanga nodded more firmly. “Yes, councilors. We have come to you for help, and to warn you.” 

“Warn us?” A councilor that had spoken earlier repeated archly. 

Sanga’s face went grim. “Yes. I have been Divinity all my life, and I can tell you now; they have probably replaced Tselah by now.” 

Ashivon winced; it was a painful thought, to know he probably hadn’t saved anyone really in the end, but probably true, realized in hushed late night discussions between him and Sanga those first few weeks after they escaped. He hated thinking about it, much less hearing it talked about, but if the Council could figure out how to save this hypothetical new executioner, then they had to try. 

Once again, stunned silence met her announcement. People exchanged horrified, uneasy glances. Ashivon dared a glance to Yarethelah; she had a hand over her mouth, looking ill and horrified as she stared at Tselah. He looked at the ground again, shame coursing through him. 

“ _Great and Little Gods,_ ” someone whispered. 

Abruptly, chaos broke out; people demanding answers, shouting panicked conjectures, pushing courses of action. Ash started at the suddenness of it, feeling his hackles rise, his lips pull back to show teeth- 

“Shh, Ash, it’s ok,” Sanga’s voice broke through the haze again, her hand squeezing his, and Ashivon closed his eyes, focused on the warm steadiness of that hand and slowing his breathing, but he could still feel his control slipping-

Thank the Saint for Sanga, because she immediately addressed the Council again, raising her voice to be heard over the din. “Honored Councilors, forgive me, but my friend needs to step out a bit. Please excuse us.” Without waiting for an answer, she began to lead him away, and Ashivon eagerly followed, the both of them leaving the Council chamber hastily. 

Once outside, the sky stretching over him and sun on his face, the band that had been slowly constricting his chest finally released, and Ashivon slumped to his knees, sucking in deep breaths of air. Sanga crouched near him, gently smoothing her hands over his neck and shoulders, coaxing his hackles down and his shoulders to relax, murmuring soothing nonsense. 

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, but eventually Tselah called out, Ashivon looking up to see the child darting toward them, open concern on his face that was echoed on Yarethelah, who was trailing behind, moving at a more sedate pace. 

“Ash, Ash, are you ok?” Tselah burst, skidding to a stop an arm’s length away. Ashivon felt something in his stomach curdle; how bad must he have looked for Tselah to give him room like that? 

Sharply, he nodded, then offered Tselah a small, weak smile. “Ok, now.” He reached out, patting Tselah on the head when he cautiously crept closer, and the child finally relaxed. 

Yarethelah was frowning as she joined them, placing a claiming hand on Tselah’s shoulder. “ _So that’s why you cannot be inside?_ ” she inquired, delicately. 

Ashivon winced, withdrawing his hand, but nodded. Technically, it had been only part of the reason, but... well. Like Sanga had said, he would spare innocent ears. 

Yarethelah sighed, sympathy shining in her gold eyes. “ _The Council wants you to return for the afternoon session. For further explanation and debate._ ” 

Ashivon froze, anxiety prickling under his skin. 

“Ash?” Sanga asked, a note of protective alarm in her voice. When he didn’t answer, his throat closed and words gone again, she turned to Tselah. “What’d she say, kid?” 

“The Council wants Ash to come back, for more questions,” he dutifully translated. 

Sanga immediately declared firmly, “I’ll go. I know everything Ash does- a bit more in some cases. I’ll answer any questions they have.” 

Tselah communicated this to Yarethelah, who hesitated, but eventually nodded reluctantly. “ _That would probably be best_ ,” she sighed, then shook her head, straightening her posture into something self-assured and businesslike. “ _But for now, it’s almost lunchtime. Let’s get home._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I decided the Intseh basically got Dr Seuss versions of Dick and Jane books to learn to read. So sue me. 
> 
> If you're confused on why both Sanga and Ashivon seem convinced Nalitalvon and Yarethelah are both female, don't be! Sanga and Ashivon are the ones confused. They don't realize yet Intseh are hermaphrodites (no, not even Ashivon, and why will become apparent later) and all they know is both Yarethelah and Nalitalvon have given birth, so therefore in their minds they must be women. Same goes for Mihraleh. Since it's cannon that the general world of Church and even Divinity itself is cool with homosexuality at least, Sanga just assumes they're a happy trio of lesbians and is too polite to ask who their baby daddy(s?) is. It doesn't help that Nalitalvon did use the term 'wife' in the previous chapter for Mihraleh, no one realizing Nalitalvon doesn't get the gender implications attached to it, and Sanga's own history of being teased for looking 'butch'. Ashivon is just clueless as usual and follows Sanga's lead. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments are appreciated!


	3. The Council, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plain text is Intsehli, italicized is Tali'han.

Yarethelah watched their guests walk ahead of them and Tselah with a worried frown. Even calmed, Ashivon stayed close to Sanga’s side, constantly drifting closer to Sanga, like a small kit keeping close to their chevo. Ashivon’s dependance on Sanga to keep them even was glaringly obvious in the wake of the scene in the Council chambers. Even though they were calm, Ashivon’s shoulders remained hunched, their posture tense and ashamed.

Yarethelah hadn’t quite been able to accept Tselah’s nearly terrified report the day before, how Ashivon could get ‘scary’, completely. They thought it had to be the exaggeration of a kit, surely. The young Intseh seemed so skittish, so shy, especially compared to Sanga, it was hard to imagine them having a violent bone in their body, despite them being so large and muscular, clearly built for fighting. It seemed preposterous that they could even do something as simple as claw Sanga, especially given how clearly Ashivon adored Sanga, though Yarethelah supposed even babies could claw if threatened, or on accident. But when chaos had broken out in the chamber following Sanga’s pronouncement that there may be another kit undergoing the same ill-defined horrors Ashivon had, and Yarethelah watched Ashivon’s eyes go slitted, teeth bare, hackles rise like a wild thing prepared to fight their way out- 

Well. Yarethelah had no problems believing Tselah now. 

They arrived to find lunch already being set out, under the watchful eye of Ishoteslah. Vrahlavon and Nalitalvon had returned before them, already cleaned up from the day’s work. Their eldest kit spared the group only a glance before going back to teasing an annoyed Kahanla, but Nalitalvon rose from the table with a welcoming smile, heading toward them. 

Yarethelah spared Ashivon and Sanga a final worried glance as the pair retreated to Ashivon’s hammock, murmured an instruction to Tselah to go see if their Tshavo needed a hand with anything, pushing them off, then finally turned to greet their approaching mate with a smile. “My heart,” they greeted in a warm murmur, reaching out to curl their arms around Nalitalvon’s shoulders and pull them into an embrace, the smaller Intseh’s arms going around their waist as they nuzzled. 

“My soul,” Nalitalvon murmured in reply, equally fond. A single hand slipped between them, resting on Yarethelah’s belly, wordlessly greeting their kit too. 

“Busy morning?” Yarethelah inquired. 

Nalitalvon hummed, pressing their foreheads together. “Mm. Always busy when you’re not there.” 

Yarethelah snorted. “I’m usually not there.” 

“Hush, you,” Nalitalvon mock growled, twinkle of teasing in their eye. “I’ve gotten used to you being on child-leave too quickly. When you go back to the little ones at school our stall will never be the same.” Yarethelah snorted and rolled their eyes. Nalitalvon grinned, then asked, “And yours? How was the Council?” 

Yarethelah sighed. “The Council was the Council,” they grimaced, making Nalitalvon snicker. Yarethelah’s distaste for the often plodding and distracted nature of their governing body was hardly a secret. “We weren’t able to finish the questioning, so they want us to come back this afternoon.” 

Their mate paused, raising an eyebrow. “Not able to finish? You ran out of time?” they asked. 

Yarethelah felt their frown deepen. “No.” They glanced toward Ashivon’s hammock, where Ashivon had curled up in it, Sanga sitting on the edge of the hammock, worried frown on their face as they spoke in a low murmur. Yarethelah sighed. “We found out why Ashivon can’t be inside.” 

“Ah.” Nalitalvon’s frown echoed Yarethelah’s own. “I take it it’s not pleasant?” 

“Not at all,” Yarethelah sighed. They bit their lip, hesitating a moment, before divulging in a soft murmur, “I regret taking Tselah with us. Ashivon’s reaction was... upsetting, for them.” 

“Hmm.” Nalitalvon hummed thoughtfully, sparing the pair a measuring glance before shifting a bit so they were side-by-side instead of facing each other, their arm around Yarethelah’s waist, Yarethelah’s arm sliding over their shoulders, their older partner leading them forward, towards the table. “Do you think Ashivon can handle going back this afternoon?” 

Yarethelah sighed. “No. Ashivon has already said they couldn’t. Sanga has volunteered to speak to the Council in their stead. We’ll go after lunch.” Huffing a laugh and changing the subject slightly, they continued, “Ashivon is a fast study, though. While waiting for the session to start, I started walking them both through a learning-book; Sanga was having a bit of difficulty, but Ashivon was picking it up like a duck takes to swimming.” Really, Yarethelah quietly suspected Sanga might have difficulty focusing in general, a common enough barrier in teaching, but wasn’t about to make a definite judgement after a mere twenty-minute lesson. 

Gingerly, Yarethelah lowered themselves onto a cushion with a little sigh and a little help from Nalitalvon’s hand for balance- being on their feet for extended periods was getting harder and harder- smiling and chuckling when Ahnshiovon and Ishohsivon both crowded on either side of them, demanding attention and tripping over each other to tell them about their morning at school. They exchanged a fondly exasperated look with their mate, Nalitalvon conceding defeat to their twin kits and taking a seat further down the table. Quietly, Nalitalvon instructed Tselah to go bring Ashivon and Sanga over for lunch, their youngest dashing off across the courtyard. 

Only to return with only Sanga in tow. Yarethelah frowned at Nalitalvon’s translation of their vague explanation- Ashivon needed a bit of time to themselves, apparently. Too many people at once and being inside had worn on their nerves. Unlike that morning, though, Sanga sat with them, sharing their table and company. Apparently Ashivon needed a break from Sanga sometimes too. 

Yarethelah did not find it reassuring at all. 

  
  
  


Ehrakoinivah Duahlashaha had seen many come before the Council of Elders, over the years. Not only during the considerable number of winters they had sat in a seat themselves, but before, as a neighborhood representative as well; long had Ehrahoinivah spent their days in the Council chamber, watching the endless parade of people and their oddly repetitive- yet somehow always a little unique- problems. 

They had never quite seen anyone like Sanga. 

It wasn’t just that they were a human, though that was no small part of it; human faces were rare even in Rohvrehvoavan, which had the most contact with humans of all the towns and villages in all the Intseh lands, and never to Ehrakoinvah’s knowledge had one given witness to a Council. Like most humans, they were short, but stockily built, with strange proportions, lumps in odd places and a strange lack of fur. 

Despite being so strange looking, the human exuded confidence and energy, fearless as they stood alone- the youngest of the Verselehr triad remaining in the crowd this time- before the council, patiently providing more details about the Children of Divinity, the role young Ashivon had played within their sect, and the methods and means by which another kit might have been stolen in the intervening moons since their escape. 

Sanga was nearly painfully open and transparent about the first and third topics, despite obviously sanitizing the details (for which Ehrakoinivah was ashamed to admit they were grateful), but it was young Ashivon- ironically the subject the Council was most interested in- that they were most reserved about. The human easily divulged Ashivon had been brought to the human lands thirteen winters ago, either from Rohvrehvoavan specifically or a town with similar architecture based on Ashivon’s few memories, which did thankfully narrow down the possibilities for Ashivon’s origin a bit. They gave a brief overview of the ‘duties’ of an Executioner- including the fact they were considered demons, barely animals, and treated as such. But anything further, and Sanga became... vague, at best, and downright avoiding at worst. 

Eventually, Tesofullah became frustrated at the verbal dancing on both sides, demanding bluntly, “ _ Why will you not speak of Ashivon’s executions? Or their daily life? _ ” 

Sanga’s eyes went shadowed, but they answered plainly. “ _ Because Ash’s pains are not mine to share _ . _ I won’t break his trust like that. _ ” They shrugged, nonchalantly. “ _ Besides, I never actually watched one of his executions. It was considered... unseemly, for nuns and monks to watch _ .” They grimaced, crossing their arms over their chest. “ _ We just cleaned up the mess _ .” 

Ehrakoinivah exchanged worried, disturbed frowns with several of their fellows. Mess, indeed. 

“ _ Thank you, young Sanga, _ ” Dehnosivon, who was acting as lead speaker this day, closed the human’s questioning finally with a little nod. “ _ We appreciate your candor. You may return to the crowd. _ ” Sanga gave a small bow, then obediently retreated to stand at Yarethelah’s side once more, relaxing as they stepped away from the spotlight. 

“Well,” Dehnosivon sighed, the usually spritely Councilor looking every one of their winters, “This is the part where I would normally open the floor to debate, but I think for once we are all in agreement without it.” They looked about the circle with a raised eyebrow, receiving grimaces and snarls of agreement. Dehnosivon nodded. “It’s agreed then. We must reach out to the other towns and villages, as quickly as possible. Someone put out the word, we need our eight swiftest message-runners.” 

  
  
  


Ashivon looked up from the reading primer he and Tselah had been slowly sounding out together when Sanga and Yarethelah entered the courtyard, both looking exhausted, but satisfied. 

"Daschev!" Tselah called, slipping from his seat to run to his mother's side and babble questions. "What happened? Is the council looking for Ashivon's family? Is-" 

"Whoa, whoa," Yarethelah chuckled, shaking her head and motioning for Tselah to settle, which he did with visible reluctance. She continued to talk to him, but Ashivon didn't catch what she said, his attention stolen by Sanga leaving her side to approach him instead with a weary smile. 

Ashivon offered her a smile in return. " _ How was it? _ " He asked as she sat beside him. 

" _ Long _ ," she sighed. " _ But thankfully productive. They're going to send out messagers to the surrounding towns, both to inquire about your parents and to check if anyone's missing a kid. Apparently they have a system in place for reaching out to the other towns about stuff like this _ ." She huffed, sounding disgruntled. " _ So I guess now we wait _ ." 

Ashivon bit his lip, considering that. This whole situation was... totally alien. He had never just sat back and let someone else do things for him, at least not something he  _ wanted _ to happen, and he knew Sanga never had either. It was not the Church's way to have able bodies without a role, a job. Both of them found the idea of being useless,  _ directionless _ , unpalatable, he knew. 

His eyes fell to the tabletop, finding the reading primer. He brightened. " _ No _ ," he grinned, pushing it toward her. " _ Now we learn _ ." 

He was expecting Sanga’s wince and near flinch away from the book, but that didn’t make him any less dismayed. “ _ Aw, not this again. Ash, come on- _ ” she started to protest in a groan. 

“ _ Sanga. _ ” His voice, firm and insistent, caused her to fall quiet. “ _ You’re not dumb. You can learn. And if you’re going to be a healer here, you need to be able to talk with people. Right? _ ” A sudden, horrible thought made Ashivon’s stomach curdle, his gaze fall to the tabletop, and nearly stole his words, but he forced himself to add in a near whisper, “ _ Unless.... you’re not planning on staying? _ ”

“ _ Ash. _ ” Sanga’s hand landed on his, gripping firmly, and when he met her eyes, they were soft, and she smiled fondly. “ _ Ash, I have no other place now besides at your side. Of course I’m staying. _ ” 

Ashivon’s stomach settled, and he returned her smile, gently running his thumb over her knuckles. He had missed her being unafraid to touch him, feeling allowed to touch her in return. He still wasn’t so sure her trust wasn’t misplaced, but... he could be a little selfish, he supposed. As long as he didn’t hurt her again, it was fine. 

He tapped on the book firmly. “ _ Then we learn. _ ” 

Sanga sighed gustily, slumping forward dramatically on the table with a mulish glare at the book like it was to blame for all her frustrations. “ _ Way to ruin the moment, Ash. _ ” Ash shrugged unrepentantly, tapping the book again, and she rolled her eyes but surrendered, pointing at a word. “ _ Fine. What’s that one? _ ” 

“ _ No idea, _ ” Ashivon admitted cheerfully. 

“ _ Great start _ ,” Sanga snarked. 

  
  
  


Yarethelah watched their guests talk curiously. When Sanga reached for Ashivon’s hand, hesitating juet the tiniest bit before clasping it and smiling warmly, like Nalitalvon smiled at themselves, Yarethelah felt their ears perk in surprise. When Ashivon smiled back, they looked down to Tselah questioningly, finding their kit looking distinctly unimpressed and unsurprised. 

They looked up when they noticed their parent’s gaze. “Told you,” they deadpanned, with all the blunt exasperation of a kit. “They’re so dumb. It’s so obvious they love each other, but neither one of them will do anything about it. Davi and Nika spent the  _ whole _ trip through the mountains trying, and they still don’t get it.” 

“Hm.” Yarethelah observed them for a little longer, considering seriously what might make a human follow an Intseh all the way here. What might make them stand fearlessly before a foreign Council and bear their questions merely to spare their companion. What might make them smile so sweetly, treat another with such gentle care and consideration. 

As for Ashivon, well, what would make an Intseh who had been so grievously wronged by humans all their life put that aside to accept a human’s touch? Not just accept it, but crave it, seek it out when all other touch repelled them? 

“Oh Little Gods, not you too,” Tselah groaned. 

Yarethelah snapped a reproachful look at their youngest. “Language!” they hissed with a frown, making Tselah roll their eyes. “Go give them a hand with that, I need to go find your Tshavo.” 

Tselah rolled their eyes again but obediently trotted off to the table, leaving Yarethelah free to go seek out their chevo. Taschev did so love a little matchmaking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, hello, Yarethelah, and welcome aboard the good ship Ashivon/Sanga! Hope you've brought plenty of provisions, because it's going to be a long. journey. 
> 
> In case you're confused, 'Nika' is what Tselah calls Ameqa. He struggles to pronounce her name right, but she's used to that from small foreign children so usually gives them her childhood nickname to call her, since it's way easier to say. Both Tselah and I know her name is Ameqa, it's just what he calls her. 
> 
> A brief overview of the politics/governmental structure in this story, since neither Ashivon or Sanga are ever going to really be interested in learning about it themselves:  
> The Intseh are a loose confederation made up of several different towns/villages/tribes/one or two larger city-states, all united by sharing an overarching set of cultural norms and trade ties. Each is governed independently, by a Council of Elders, which are democratically elected and hold office until either they're deemed unfit or they die. Councils vary in size and exact composition, depending on a variety of factors in their respective towns, but in Rohvrehvoavan the Council is twelve members, each one representing a distinct neighborhood of Rohvrehvoavan, and meet two-three times a week, depending. The Council is almost totally transparent, holding their sessions open to the public, and any member of the public interested in bringing business before the Council, weighing in on the matters being discussed, or simply observing, is more than welcome. It's totally normal for each neighborhood to have unofficial "representatives" that habitually attend the sessions for the sole purpose of reporting on the goings-on of that day's session and keeping the neighborhood abreast of matters. While the system is solid in theory, in practice, being made up of primarily old people means sessions are often plodding, meandering, and easily turn into old people gossip sessions. Stuff can and does get done, as seen with their response to Ashivon, but sometimes that's not the case and "debate" on matters can drag on for weeks. It doesn't help that memories all around are usually spotty, so any time a matter is tabled and gets brought back up later, at least the first five minutes are usually spent refreshing everyone's memory, and if it didn't get written down in the session minutes it didn't happen. So Khasvilih is actually a super important person, being the Council Secretary. The Council is often seen as indecisive and old-fashioned by the younger generations, but what else is new? 
> 
> As always, feedback would be much appreciated.


	4. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plain text is Intsehli, italics Tali'han.

“Green...  _ um...  _ fish?  _ No, um... Saintdamn it! _ ” Sanga shoved the learning-book away with a deep, ugly scowl, rising from the table to pace agitatedly. 

Ash frowned softly in concern as he watched her do so, shooting a look at Yarethelah, who appeared startled and also concerned. “Sanga?” she called, and when Sanga didn’t answer, merely pacing faster and muttering under her breath to herself, she turned her attention to him. “What happened?” she asked softly. 

Ash bit his lip, hesitant to divulge Sanga’s secrets, instead hedging, “Sanga... have... trouble. With reading.” He turned toward his friend, calling out to her, “ _ Sanga. You should tell her. _ ” 

“ _ Tell her what, Ash? _ ” Sanga snapped back acerbically. 

Ash flinched from her tone reflexively, but did his best to shake it off and pressed on anyway. It was Sanga, she wouldn’t hit him. “ _ Tell her you’re having trouble concentrating. Maybe she can help. _ ” 

Sanga scoffed. “ _ No one else has. _ ” 

“ _ I have. _ ” 

That made her pause, though she didn’t stop pacing. Finally, she reluctantly asked, “ _ Tselah, could you help me translate for a minute? _ ” 

The boy nodded, eager for an excuse to abandon his own schoolwork- Yarethelah had him busy on a kind of review course to catch him up from his long absence from school- and moved to his mother’s side, Yarethelah’s brow still furrowed with curious confusion. 

Sanga heaved in a deep breath and started to speak, Tselah translating as she did. “ _ I can’t... focus, sometimes. My mind, it wanders, and when it does, I can’t sit still, no matter what I do, and... the worse I am at something, the worse the wandering gets, so when it comes to letters, I just... _ ” she laughed bitterly, throwing up her hands. “ _ I’m a bit hopeless when it comes to letters. _ ” 

Yarethelah watched her pace, listening with a considering frown as Tselah translated Sanga’s near rambling explanation. When she finished, Yarethelah gave a small nod, drawing Sanga’s attention and effectively halting her pacing with a casual, slow gesture of her hand that ended with the hand placed on the table before her. When Sanga met her eyes, guarded and hesitant, Yarethelah smiled warmly. Firmly, kindly, she answered simply, “We can work with that.” 

Sanga’s disbelief when Tselah translated was palpable, but Yarethelah seemed not to notice. Instead, she pulled out a slate and a writing utensil, quickly writing some kind of list down, and then held it out to Sanga, who cautiously stepped forward to take it. 

“ _ What’s this? _ ” she asked, but Yarethelah just smiled and made an encouraging gesture. 

“Read, read,” she insisted, one of the only words Sanga knew. Sanga huffed, but her brow furrowed as she peered at the writing obligingly. 

Slowly, she read out, “Find... two?  _ No _ , three... plate...” abruptly, Sanga’s face cleared, a kind of excited wonder dawning on her face. “ _ Tselah, is this some kind of treasure hunt? _ ” 

The child obligingly drew to her side, glancing at the list before nodding with a grin of his own. “ _ Daschev is good like that _ ,” he merely shrugged. 

Ash grinned, exchanging a look with Yarethelah, who looked rather pleased with herself. “If you see a word you don’t know, come ask,” she instructed lightly, Tselah translating as usual. “Complete the list, then we’ll take a bit of a break before we try the primer again. Good?” 

Sanga grinned. “Good.” 

  
  
  


Sanga found it surprisingly easy to relax in the Versehler household. The entire clan was warm and welcoming, even if they couldn’t communicate directly, and it became easy to forget she was essentially free-loading in their storeroom. Every morning, she would wake, perform her morning rituals, then either practice a kata or no-touch spar with Ash. She was never quite sure when Nalitalvon and Vrahlavon would slip out, but by the time she was waking Ash for their spar in the early morning dawnlight, the two were always already gone to their morning work, manning the family fishing boat and then their family stall in the smaller meat marketplace, selling their catch. By the time she and Ash were done with their sparring, the rest of the household would be stirring as well. Breakfast, then Yarethelah would sit her, Ash, and Tselah down for lessons; she and Ash learning the language, Tselah working on his refresher course.

Sanga was somehow unsurprised to learn Yarethelah was a teacher by trade, currently on leave in the last moons of her pregnancy to avoid stressing the baby, which she wholeheartedly supported as a healer. Yarethelah was a patient teacher, firm when she needed to be, but on average very kind and understanding, even when Sanga couldn’t stop her mind from wandering. 

Ash, as expected, raced through the primers Yarethelah provided them, his Intsehli improving in leaps and bounds, unwaveringly excited every time the older Intseh produced a new book for him. He had always found words and books to be wonderful things, even when they were little children and she was teaching him as best she could from her school slate and smuggled books from the orphanage’s library, and her friend blossomed under the gentle guidance of Yarethelah. She, also as expected, did not. 

When she haltingly explained, at Ash’s urging, how her attention would slip no matter what she did, she had half expected Yarethelah to lecture her on how she just needed to concentrate, or perhaps crack down on discipline; the usual reactions from teachers in her experience. But Yarethelah simply listened patiently, nodded solemnly, and assured her carefully, “We can work with that.” 

After that first day, the structure of the lessons changed a little; like before, Yarethelah would first set Tselah to his assigned subject for the morning, leaving him to his self-guided study, then give Ash a book to read, encouraging him to ask Tselah first before coming to her for help, and then she would turn her attention to Sanga. Like Ash, she would place a book in front of her to read, but unlike Ash, she only had her read in half-hour long sessions. After that first half-hour, she would switch Sanga to a more practical exercise; usually a treasure hunt of some kind, the items on the list usually reflective of whatever was in the primer. Then another half-hour with the primers, back and forth. The exercises were good, both because they allowed her to move, as well as reinforcing the words she was learning. For the times when even with the frequent breaks she still couldn’t quite sit still, Yarethaleh gave her a small knotted piece of rope to fiddle with, the rope twisted and knotted on itself in a complex tangle that her fingers found endlessly interesting and her mind soothing. And when she was having a day where she couldn’t sit still if her legs were broken, which happened less than they used to but still happened, Yarethelah would let her pace and simply talk with her, practicing her conversational skills, or pull out a massive tome of fairy stories, inviting Ash and Tselah to pause in their own work and listen to her read to them all. Never once did she accuse Sanga of being deliberately inattentive, or disruptive, or punish her for her mind’s wanderings. She never grew frustrated with Sanga when her mind began to wander, or with Ash’s ignorance, never compared them to each other or tried to pit them against one another. It was refreshing. When she tried to thank Yarethelah for putting up with her, for being so kind, she merely waved the thanks away, smiling warmly and assuring her gently, “Everyone learns at their own pace, in their own way.”

Sanga was quickly growing to appreciate the matronly Intseh. She knew Ash was too. 

Once lunchtime passed, however, she found herself at a bit of a loss. Ash would simply take one of the reading primers and curl up in his hammock, challenging himself with words he did not yet know and reveling in the stories that were teased out with his growing comprehension, interspersed with his customary naps; her friend naturally far more comfortable with being largely still than she. Tselah would find the company of his similarly aged siblings and run off to amuse himself. Nalitalvon would return at lunchtime, and usually she and Yarethelah would retire together, spending their time in each others’ company. Nalitalvon was a bit ghost-like in her presence, but when she was there, Nalitalvon was affectionate and easygoing, despite being the one Sanga most often observed being the disciplinarian of the two parents. She was very much Yarethelah’s match in disposition, being equally kind and warm, if a little less reserved with physical affection. 

It only took two days of being bored enough that plaiting grass was starting to sound fun before Sanga took it upon herself to find a way to pass the time. Desperate for something to do, she found herself in the entrance to the kitchen. 

The household kitchen was a spacious affair, full of cubbies and a great stone oven, centered around a waist-high (on an Intseh, for her it was closer to chest high) table; cozy and welcoming. It was the domain of Ishoteslah, an elderly Intseh she had established to be one of Yarethelah’s parents. Sanga honestly wasn't quite sure if Ishoteslah was male or female- to her frustration she was still having trouble telling male and female Intseh apart-, but tentatively called her female based on her similarity to Yarethelah and shoulder-length hair and hadn’t been corrected yet. Yarethelah definitely took after her in both caring nature, and appearance, though Sanga assumed Yarethelah got her horns and a bit of extra height from her father, since Ishoteslah had none and was shorter. 

Ishoteslah seemed startled to see her there, blinking large golden eyes at Sanga, ears and tail perked in that way she saw Ash do when he was mildly surprised or curious. She blushed, suddenly worried this might seem impertinent, but she was just. So. Bored. 

So Sanga squared her shoulders, pointed at the batch of dough Ishoteslah was apparently kneading, and asked in her broken Intsehli, “Sanga... help? Help Ishoteslah?” 

The surprise in the worn looking Intseh’s expression shifted to what Sanga thought might be bemusement, but she nodded slowly all the same, making a small, welcoming gesture with a gnarled, flour-dusted hand. 

Sanga smiled and stepped inside. 

  
  
  


"Tselah! Tselah!" 

Tselah groaned, slowly stirring at the hiss of their name. "What?" they whined, refusing to open their eyes. Maybe if Tselah refused to move, their sibling would go away. 

No such luck, Ishohsivon starting to poke Tselah's side and speak more urgently. "Tselah, your friends are fighting!" 

Tselah blinked. Sat up. "What? Sanga and Ashivon don't fight." They were either sickeningly gentle with each other, or Ashivon was having an episode, which Tselah didn’t really think counted as  _ fighting _ . Either way, they didn’t fight. 

Ishva's eyes were wide, the fingers of one hand worrying the fingers of the other anxiously. "Well they're fighting now! In the courtyard!" 

Alarmed, Tselah leapt from bed, making a dash for the courtyard, Ishva hot on their heels. Tselah caught sight of Taschev, Daschev, Vrahlavon and Ahnva all crowded around the doorway to the courtyard, watching whatever was going on with wide eyes- though Ahnva looked more excited than worried, like Daschev and Vrahlavon did, and Taschev... Tselah wasn’t sure what Taschev’s expression was. Tselah darted up to join them- only to stop in their tracks and groan. 

“You guys got me up for this?” they groaned in irritation, scrubbing at their face. “They’re just sparring.” 

“Sparring, Tselfa?” Daschev pressed. Tselah nodded with a yawn. 

“Uh-huh. It’s like... practice fighting. They don’t mean it. They don’t even touch each other.” Although Tselah did admit it kinda looked like they meant it. Ashivon and Sanga danced around each other with furrowed brows and light frowns of concentration, both ducking and weaving around the other’s punches and kicks. The blows were thrown full force, and Tselah knew they hurt because they had seen other people be on the receiving end of them, but when it was just them, they were always just a tiny bit too slow to actually connect, merely whiffing through the air. Tselah wasn’t sure why, but if you watched enough, it became obvious they were purposefully not connecting. 

“Do you think they’d teach me?” Ahnva asked, eyes bright with excitement at the prospect. 

Tselah shrugged. “Maybe. Hey, Sanga!” they called. 

“Y-es, Tselah?” Sanga sing-songed back, she and Ashivon never breaking a stride. 

“Ahnva wants to learn.” 

That made them stop, the both of them stopping simultaneously as always though some signal Tselah had yet to divine, then turned to the doorway. Sanga crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, breathing a bit hard but still speaking clearly. “ _ Does he now? _ ” 

Ahnva nodded eagerly, their ears perked all the way up. They took a half-step forward, like they wanted to rush over immediately, and begged, “Yes! Please, Sanga? Please, Ashivon?” 

Ashivon immediately shook their head, a scared look flashing over their eyes and turning to go to their hammock with a rushed step, but Sanga took a step forward, drawing Ahnva’s attention back to her and the calculating look in her own eyes. She looked at Daschev and Taschev. 

“ _ Is it ok? _ ” she asked hesitantly. Daschev and Taschev shared a look, while Ahnva stared pleadingly up at them.

Eventually, Daschev sighed and nodded. Ahnva gave a whoop and dashed over to Sanga, nearly bouncing with eagerness. 

Tselah nodded absently, and decided their work was done. With no one paying them any more attention, they wandered back to bed.

  
  
  


“Sanga! Sanga!” 

Sanga smiled at the call of her name, lifting the tray of small, hand-sized cakes she had spent the previous evening assisting Ishoteslah making high above her head, keeping them out of the reach of sneaky hands. She mock scowled down at the twins. “No! Cakes...  _ um... _ after food. And Tselah get... first cake.” Pretty good for someone that didn’t speak Intsehli at all two weeks ago, Sanga thought proudly to herself. 

Ishohsivon and Ahnshiovon- though they preferred the nicknames Ishva and Ahnva- both pouted, put out at the cake denial as only twelve-year-olds could be. Despite being twins, and inseparable, and both taking to her lessons in the Hand like ducks to water, Sanga could not have imagined two more different children. Ahnfa was small and scrappy, only a bit bigger than Tselah despite being two years his senior, and the spit of Nalitalvon; quick to square off with one of his siblings but just as quick to forgive with a hug. Ishofa, on the other hand, was a miniature copy of Yarethelah save for being hornless, stocky and big for their age, yet endlessly sweet and nearly shy, especially in comparison to his twin. 

“Come on, Ishva!” Ahnva scowled at his brother. “We talked about this! You gotta ram ‘em! Sanga’s small enough for you to knock over!”

Ishva frowned, clearly hesitant. “But if I do that, won’t Sanga drop the cakes? If they go on the ground, Daschev won’t let us eat any of them.” 

The scowl on Ahnva’s face abruptly dropped, replaced with a startled look that shifted after a moment to thoughtfulness. “Oh yeah,” he hummed, bringing up a curled hand to tap against his chin. Clearly he hadn’t thought about that. 

Sanga snorted and stepped around them, bearing the tray without incident to the family table, setting it among the other dishes on the already heavily laden table, close to Nalitalvon so she could watch over them and keep wandering hands away until it was time. Today was Tselah’s birthday, and Ishotselah and Yarethelah had gone all out, preparing all of Tselah’s favorites. Apparently it was the tradition of the Verselehr household to allow the person whose birthday it was to decide the lunch menu and dessert was always cake, the first one served to the one whose birthday it was. Tselah was giddy, squirming and nearly bouncing in his seat with excitement, eyes bright as he looked over the table. 

He met Sanga’s gaze, and she exchanged grins with him before going to sit in the open seat beside Ash. Most days he found lunch to be overwhelming, usually retreating to his hammock to watch and eat from a comfortable distance, but today he was braving the table for Tselah’s sake. Sanga exchanged a smile with him too, squeezing his hand briefly. 

No sooner than Ishotselah had sat, the last person to join the table after adding a final basket of rolls to the spread, then serving platters and bowls were being passed around, everyone helping themselves and lively chatter flowing between them in a current of sound. Sanga still didn't get any more than one word in five, but it was still a pleasant din, as it always was. Lunch, it had quickly become obvious early in their stay, was the family meal of the day; everyone in the family would find their way home if only briefly, to eat together and touch base, reaffirming their family connection. Even young Kahanla, who Sanga rarely saw otherwise, would meander into the courtyard from wherever he (she? While Tselah called him brother, and they were broad and strong looking, it was no more than Yarethelah was, and their heart-shaped white face mask and long, braided black hair reminded Sanga more of a female) spent their days, talking with his parents about his daily work in vocabulary that far exceeded Sanga’s current grasp. Today was even more so than usual; everyone eager to celebrate their youngest member after his unplanned absence. Tselah took a little of everything, but barely touched his plate; barely five minutes had passed before he was up out of his seat, flitting about the table to visit and snuggle and steal bites off seemingly random family members’ plates instead, energetic and bright as usual. He even crawled onto Sanga’s lap, gently butting his head against her chin and grinning up at her as he dared to steal a bit of food from Ash’s plate, making Ash huff an exasperated laugh and roll his eyes. Sanga giggled. 

Yarethelah, on Ash’s other side, chuckled too. Slowly, making sure Ash noticed her doing so and had time to pull away if he didn’t want it, Yarethelah reached up to lightly run her fingers through Ash’s hair. 

Ash tensed for a second, then relaxed, offering Yarethelah a small smile that she returned, her dark gold eyes warm as she pulled away. Ash was still not totally comfortable with anyone but Sanga touching him, most of the family trying to respect his space (even if Tselah and the twins frequently forgot), but Yarehtelah had seemed to make it her personal mission to start breaking down his touch-barriers, slowly but patiently. Even that small touch was a huge improvement for him, and Sanga felt her grin widen, pleased happiness for her friend bubbling up inside her. She bumped him with her shoulder, and Ash flicked her with his tail in return, the tickle of the tuft making her giggle. 

Ishotselah, on her other side, chuckled too, absently running a gnarled, worn hand down Sanga’s back as Tselah wiggled his way from her lap to his grandmother’s. She treated Sanga and Ash like she treated all her grandchildren, and Sanga had quickly grown fond of the kind and bustling Intseh. Sanga flushed lightly at her touch, but nowhere near as bad as she may have two weeks ago. It had been a shock to the system, just how... touchy, Tselah’s family was. She had never considered herself touch-shy, but compared to the absolute lack of personal space the Verselehr clan had, she seemed almost as uncomfortable with touching as Ash was. Physical affection came to them as easy as breathing, and they effortlessly included her and Ash like they were family too. She had noticed while on the road Tselah would often hang off either her or Ash when he wasn’t darting ahead, and was soothed easiest with a hug, but she had assumed at the time it was because he was a little kid, far from home and needing any and all reassurance he could get. Seeing him here, with his family, thoroughly disabused her of that notion. If anything, on the road he had been restrained, as evidenced by his current shameless cuddling with his grandmother. Watching him interact with his family only strengthened her impression that everyone in the Verselehr clan belonged to each other in some way. Honestly, lunchtimes reminded Sanga of communal meals back in Divinity, when she was still Sister Sanga, the memories of foresworn friends bittersweet. Still, Sanga enjoyed the family meal, enjoyed learning about their hosts, even if most days Ash found them overwhelming, often retreating to his hammock to eat alone. 

They were strange, but Sanga was getting used to it. 

Sanga was a little surprised at how quickly she and Ash were getting used to a lot of things, and how quickly they settled into a routine in the Verselehr household, though she supposed in retrospect she shouldn't have been, both she and Ash creatures of routine. Unhappy routine, maybe, but routine none the less. Wake, morning prayer, practicing the Hand with Ash and the twins; breakfast, Intsehli lessons with Yarethelah, lunch; help Ishotselah in the kitchen for most of the afternoon. Then she would spend her evenings with Ash; sometimes talking, sometimes working on one of Yarethelah’s endless reading primers together, sometimes just enjoying each other’s company. Evening prayer, sleep, repeat. It was rather soothing, after so many uncertain days on the road. 

Even now, she was absently evaluating the foods on the table, guessing which dishes might have leftovers that would most likely end up as either a cold addition to dinner- a largely informal affair typically grabbed directly from the kitchen on an individual basis as people’s hunger dictated in the evening- or a filling in one of the flakey-crusted savory pastries that typically made up the bulk of dinners. Ishotselah had been hesitant the first time Sanga wandered into the kitchen a mere few days after she and Ash arrived, bored out of her mind and desperate for something to do that had nothing to do with letters, but quickly warmed to her when she found Sanga’s hands were much more skilled than her tongue, peeling vegetables and stirring soup pots and kneading dough with the ease of familiarity. Sanga had never expected to be  _ grateful _ for having so many punishment assignments in the kitchens growing up, but then she had never expected to put those skills to work in an Intseh’s kitchen either. 

Ash's tail flicked gently against her again, grabbing her attention; she turned to meet his curious, slightly concerned gaze and realized she had been spacing out just staring at a plate of ribs and musing. She smiled reassuringly and stole a bite from his plate, making him scowl and pull his plate away. She laughed. 

The rest of lunch was pleasant, culminating as expected in cake and Tselah receiving several small gifts. Sanga frowned as she watched Nalitalvon slip a necklace with a simple metal medallion- a protective charm, she claimed, to ward off any more bad magic- over Tselah’s head, suddenly feeling... inadequate. Everyone but her and Ash had gotten him something. 

“ _ I’m sorry, _ ” Sanga said, softly to Ishotselah beside her. “ _ I didn’t know gifts were traditional, we would have gotten him something. _ ” 

Ishotselah chuckled, shaking her head. “ _You worry too much,_ kit. _You assisted with the making of the meal, and Ashivon makes him happy simply being here._ _There’s no need for anything more._ ” 

Sanga flushed, and felt Ash stiffen slightly in embarrassment next to her. “ _ Still... _ ” 

“ _ You already gave me the best present, Sanga! _ ” 

Sanga startled, not having realized Tselah had approached them, an exasperated smile on his face as he rolled his eyes. She felt her eyebrow lift. “ _ Oh yeah? And what did we give you? _ ” 

A grin found his face. “ _ You and Ash brought me home! You gave me my family back, that’s the best present! _ ” 

Sanga flushed darker as she felt her heart melt. 

Tselah shifted on his toes, childish excitement brightening his eyes. “ _ And we went on the coolest trip ever! I wanna go to the human lands again someday! _ ” 

Sanga blinked, exchanging a slightly alarmed look with Ash, but Ishotselah just laughed. “Is that so, kit? Got a little wanderlust in you, huh?” She tugged one of his horns playfully, making the boy giggle. Sanga relaxed; it was just childish yearning for adventure. He would grow out of it. 

The meal concluded uneventfully, the clan dispersing as usual to their afternoon activities and distractions. Ash, to her surprise, didn’t retreat to his hammock, instead staying to help her when she began to clear the remains of the meal. Sanga smiled gratefully at him, and couldn’t help but enjoy his small smile in return. 

“Come.” 

Sanga startled at being addressed, pausing in her task to face Vrahlavon. 

Vrahlavon, she had learned in the two weeks since they arrived in the Verselehr household, was Tselah’s eldest brother, and seemed to be roughly the same age as Ash and herself. He was nearly completely black, really the only white on him an ill-defined, oblong patch of white on his chest that kind of reminded Sanga of an inverse sinner’s brand, and lacked horns, unlike either Nalitalvon or Yarethelah. She didn't know much about him, like Kahanla he spent much of his time out of the house, but like both his parents, he seemed to be friendly and kind, often good naturedly teasing his younger siblings, particularly Kahanla. He always made efforts during the lunchtime family meal to talk to her and Ash in Tali’han, his Tali’han as rough as Ash’s Intsehli, the Intseh seemingly using the opportunity to strengthen his own secondary language skills. 

His bright yellow eyes smiled, and he repeated himself when neither she nor Ash replied, making a little beckoning gesture. “Come on. I’ll.... you to my friends.” 

Sanga frowned, glancing at Ash, but he appeared confused at the word she hadn’t recognized too, so she carefully repeated it. “What is...?” she asked, slowly sounding out her words. 

Vrahlavon chuckled, but picked another word. “Show? Yeah, show you my friends.” 

Ash ventured thoughtfully, “ _ Introduce? _ ” 

Vrahlavon thought for a second, having to mentally interpret the Tali’han, but nodded. “Right. Introduce.  _ Introduce _ .” He grinned, showing fangs as sharp as Ash’s. “I’ll introduce you to my friends. Practice your Intsehli.” 

Sanga exchanged a surprised look with Ash. While she was wary, a few too many choice memories of overtures of friendship turning out to be lures, leading her into traps where she was hurt or humiliated or both surfacing in her mind, Ash appeared downright terrified, even more out of his depth than she was. 

Sanga bit her lip. Sometimes she forgot Ash had never really had any friends besides her. She at least had had her fellow Sisters and Brothers, at least for a little while. He deserved to have friends too, people more like him, and Vrahlavon seemed earnest enough...

" _ Go, go _ ," Ishoteslah appeared from nowhere to interject, the elderly Intseh seeming fondly exasperated and making little shooing motions with her careworn hands. " _ Go have some fun, you can't stay in my kitchen forever. _ "

" _ Are you sure? _ " she asked anyway, hesitant. 

The look Ishoteslah leveled at her was dryer than a desert. " _ I have been running a kitchen on my own since before you were born,  _ kit _. While your help is appreciated, it's hardly necessary. Besides, I have Ishofa and Ahnfa and Tselfa to recruit if I need any heavy lifting done. Go meet some people. _ " She shook her head wryly, muttering almost to herself, “Little gods, what is this world coming to that old folks like me have to talk young folks into going out and socializing? Used to be you couldn’t keep them in the house if you tied them down. Honestly.” 

Sanga snorted, smiling at the grandmother’s grousing despite not quite catching all the words, but she understood enough to recognize she had a point. So Sanga steeled herself, set aside her misgivings, and nodded, grinning like her gut wasn't churning and answering Vrahlavon far more confidently than she felt. "Ok." More to Ash, she added, holding out a hand to him, "Sounds fun."

Ash didn’t really look convinced, but he still took her hand, letting her lead him out of the courtyard and into the streets after Vrahlavon. Sanga followed the dark Intseh and prayed to the Saint she wasn’t making a mistake. 

To her eternal relief, she didn’t. Vrahlavon led them to an outdoor cafe of some kind, situated on a side-street that branched off of the main marketplace, with groupings of chairs and tables scattered in front of a shop that smelled like sultry spices. At one of these tables was a grouping of Intseh, five in total, all about Vrahlavon’s age, whom he introduced as his friends. 

His friends were kind enough, making efforts to try and include her and Ash, sharing their spiced, milky tea-like drink and sickeningly sweet pastries with them freely and not taking offense or getting frustrated with either her or Ash’s inability to easily communicate quite yet. They did exchange worried, confused frowns when Ash shied away from their casual touches, but they did not comment. Or at least they seemed not to. They were thoroughly distracted by Sanga, anyway; apparently she was an interesting novelty, being a human. 

It wasn’t long before one of Vrahlavon’s friends- a whip-lean male (she could tell he was male since he was wearing no shirt, merely loose trousers) with sharp cheekbones called Tortorahlah- placed down a cup full of a dark brew in front of her, a similar cup going before himself, with a wide, sharp grin. 

Sanga felt an answering grin spread across her own face. If there was one thing that didn’t need words to be properly communicated, it was a challenge. “ _ Oh you’re going to regret this, _ ” she snickered, picking up the cup and ignoring Ash’s exasperated sigh at her elbow- he didn’t get competition, not that she could really blame him, though he had eventually stopped protesting after the third drinking competition that ended with them getting a meal on the road. 

The drink, she discovered, was not alcoholic, but was powerfully spicy, making Sanga’s eyes water and mouth burn. She stubbornly chugged it anyway. Three cups later, she had lost the competition and most of the sensation in her mouth but made an impressed friend, and gratefully accepted a bowl of sour yogurt that cooled her mouth quite nicely and actually made some of the sugary, chewy cookies rather palatable when she dipped them in it. She laughed at their bewildered, grossed out looks and did it again.

She was glad to have friends again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn ya'll updates would be slow, right? Hope this isn't too slow for ya...
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated!


	5. New Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plain text is Intsehli, italicized is Tali'han.

“Ashivon, do you have anything to add to the wash?” 

Ash looked up from his book at Ishotselah’s call, taking a moment to process it before nodding. “Sanga has it,” he called back, and though he didn’t move to assist he did watch with interest as the old Intseh dumped a bucket of steaming water into one of a pair of large, open basins that had been moved to the center of the courtyard. 

Sanga was right behind her with another bucket, only grunting a little as she heaved the bucket up and dumped the contents into the other basin. “ _Ash, hun, I’m a bit busy_ ,” she called, face screwed up in concentration. “ _Could you grab our laundry? Just grab the whole travel bag, it’s all laundry by now._ ” 

Ash froze, eyes darting to the storeroom window and locking on Sanga’s bed. He had gotten comfortable enough that sometimes he would lean over the sill and grab things within arm’s reach; but the bag wasn’t within arm’s reach. She kept their travel bag underneath her bed, and he could see the handle laying on the floor where she had hap-hazardly shoved it under that morning. 

He would have to go in. 

He could visualize himself doing it. Shut the book. Roll out of the hammock. Two paces to the window. Step, windowsill, step. Another pace to her bedside. Then back out again. Twelve paces, in all. 

His heartbeat quickened at the thought of being trapped in such a small space. It might as well be twelve miles. 

“Ash?” 

His head whipped around, shoulders tensing, only to find both Sanga and Ishotselah looking at him with concern. 

Sanga’s face fell, and she suddenly looked stricken and guilty. “ _Oh, Ash. It’s ok, I’ll get it-_ ”

Shame surged through Ash. He wasn’t a child, Sanga didn’t need to... to _coddle_ him- 

Except she did. He had proved it. 

Resolve suddenly gripped him, steeling his voice. “ _No_ .” Quickly, he softened his snap with a small smile when Sanga flinched, hurt flashing in her dark eyes. “ _No, it’s ok. I-I’ve got it._ ” 

Sanga bit her lip, obviously uncertain. “ _Are you sure-?_ ” 

“Little Gods, he’s just going to get the laundry. Nothing to be upset over,” Ishotselah huffed, rolling her eyes. “He’s perfectly capable. And if he needs help, he can always ask. We’re right here.” Dark gold eyes met his own red, and Ash suddenly realized this was her subtle encouragement and reassurance. “Come along, kit. It’ll take us a while to fill these basins since we’re doing it by hand, Ashiva can take all the time he wants gathering the laundry. It’s not urgent.” 

Ash felt his shoulders relax and his heart swell with fondness for the elder. He offered Ishotselah a small smile of thanks. She nodded in response, placing a gnarled hand on Sanga’s shoulder and gently guiding her towards the kitchens again. Sanga reluctantly followed, worry still in her eyes, but she didn’t protest, and in a moment they were both gone. 

Ash turned his gaze back to the window again, swallowing painfully. He didn’t have to rush, he reminded himself, repeating back Ishotselah’s sentiments. He could take his time. Sanga was right here, she would never suffer him to be trapped again. She had promised him as much. He trusted her, and she would help if... if he needed it. But he wouldn’t, because he would be _fine._ He could do this. 

He took a deep breath. Snapped his book shut. And rolled to his feet. 

One step. 

Two. 

He lifted his foot, placing it on the cool stone of the step, and then froze. The window itself seemed to be _shrinking-_

The splash of pouring water made him jump and turn to the basins again, finding Sanga watching him intently, tense. Waiting for him to ask. Ash took a deep, steadying breath, and offered her a small, reassuring smile that she shakily returned with a grin that was only a little forced and an encouraging gesture before turning and following Ishotselah again. 

Ash turned back to the window again, focusing on his breathing like Yarethelah had showed him. In. Out. He could do this. 

In a burst, he moved forward. Sill, step, step. The room was dark and cramped, even smaller than his cell, the walls looming over him. He snatched the bag handle, dragging it to his chest, and practically fled the space, heartbeat pounding in his ears-

And he was out. 

Ash stood there by one of his trees, shaking, breathing ragged. He reached out to place a hand on the trunk, feeling the rough texture of the bark, the solidness of the wood. It was real. He wasn’t trapped. He relaxed. 

“Ash? _You ok, big guy?_ ” He heard Sanga’s voice, soothing and worried. He opened his eyes, meeting her own concerned brown. He summoned up a shaky smile for her, uncurling his arm still wrapped around the bag and offering it to her. 

“ _I got the laundry_.” 

Sanga blinked, then broke out into a grin. She took it. “ _Thanks._ ” She hesitated, but only for a moment, before dropping the bag and throwing herself at him in a hug, doing her best to wrap her short arms around his much larger frame. “ _You did good, Ash._ ” He eagerly curled around her, a buoyant feeling he couldn’t quite name swelling in his chest. 

“A’i, you going to finish helping me fill this or just cuddle with your sweetheart?” 

Sanga stiffened, flushing at Ishotselah’s teasing call, but didn’t pull away. “Minute!” she called back, Ash unable to help a small chuckle. 

“ _Go,_ ” he sighed, selfishly nuzzling into her hair for a moment more before releasing her. Sanga stubbornly clung on for another moment, pouting a touch, but finally released him and picked up the bag, flashing him one more pleased grin before trotting back over to the basins. 

Suddenly exhausted, Ash stumbled back to his hammock, slipping back into it and curling up in a ball. He didn’t nap, just drowsily watched Sanga and Ishotselah finish filling the basins, adding soap to the first. The two playfully bickered back and forth as they washed the laundry, scrubbing in the first basin, rinsing in the second, then wringing out the water and hanging the clothes from a line. Ahnva, Ishva, Tselah and another kit Ash didn’t know but recognized as a friend of theirs darted through, chasing each other in circles and laughing before spilling out onto the street. Combined with the warm afternoon sunlight and the gentle rocking of his hammock, it was peaceful. Pleasant. 

“Ash? _Come give us a hand?”_ Sanga called, rousing him from his drifting state. The two women were trying to wrestle a waterlogged bedsheet from the rinse bucket without dumping it on the ground, grunting with the effort. Obligingly, he stood and wandered over. Between the three of them, they managed to drag it out and wring out most of the water, slinging it over the waiting line without letting any part of it touch the dirty ground. 

Intent on the task, he was focused enough on the line that his surroundings faded to a vague awareness instead of his usual sharp vigilance. So when Ahnva darted past at top speed off the street, giggling madly, he was startled enough to jump, slipping on the slick stones- 

And tumbled straight into the tub. 

He surfaced, sputtering, Sanga’s startled cry of “Ash!” ringing in his ears along with Ishotselah’s roar of laughter. 

The elder continued to cackle, shaking her shaggy head, moving close enough to flick water at Ash’s face and make him sputter more and try to wipe water and his limp hair from his eyes. “You know kit, sometimes the Gods send us omens and signs. And sometimes they shout right in our ears! Ha. Here.” She plucked a cleaning brush from where it had been abandoned on the lip of a basin, tossing it into the water carelessly. “Even the Gods seem to think you need a bath. The water’s still warm enough. Strip and scrub down.” 

Ash frowned at her, his frown transferring to Sanga when she snorted. His friend chortled, her dark eyes sparkling with merriment and grin wide. “ _She’s not wrong, Ash. It’s better than a stream, at least._ ” She stepped closer, reaching out to tug lightly at the ends of his wet hair. “ _I can trim your hair for you if you want, while we’re at it._ ” 

Ash huffed, lightly knocking her hand away, but gathered his feet under him. “ _Alright, alright._ ” He stood, shrugging out of his now soaked shirt, and tossed it into the washing-basin. “ _Could I also have the soap we got back in that one village? You know, the kind that smelled like grass?_ ” 

Silence. 

Ash paused in untying the sash on his trousers, looking back to Sanga again. Sanga was stock still, a hand covering her mouth, eyes wide and seemingly glued to his chest. He glanced down at himself; was he hurt and hadn’t noticed? No, nothing looked different than normal. Concerned, he reached out to her. “Sanga?” 

Sanga startled, rapidly blinking her eyes before letting out a nervous laugh. “ _Uh, what? Yeah, yeah, of course, let me just... go get it..._ ” She backed away from the basin like it had suddenly caught flame, rapidly fleeing the courtyard. 

Ash watched her go with a frown. 

“Kits,” Ishotselah sighed. 

  
  
  
  


Sanga leaned against the wall just out of sight of the courtyard, breathing deeply and fighting to control her heartbeat. Her face was hot, and her blood pounded in her ears. In her mind’s eye, all she could see was Ash, rising from the bath, tall and broad and stark, water sluicing down his muscular form as he peeled away his clothing, tracing out paths down his velvety fur, and for one single moment, she had wanted nothing more than to follow those paths with her own fingertips. 

Shame coursed through her. Sanga shook her head, hoping to dislodge the thoughts. What in the Saint’s name was wrong with her, looking so lustfully at a friend? Shame mingled with fury, and she stormed to her room. She fell to her knees, forcing herself not to cushion the impact and took the pain with gritted teeth before bowing low, curling her arms over her head as she muttered Saint’s Forgiveness over and over again into the stone. 

She only allowed herself a few minutes at the penance, just enough to calm herself, before she rose, not wanting to worry Ash or Ishotselah. She could do the remainder that evening. Ash was generally pretty good about not asking what she was atoning for on any given day. Hurriedly, she found the shears, a towel, and the soap Ash had asked for, even darting to the wash-room to borrow one of the grooming combs Tselah had shown her how to use, and by the time she returned to the courtyard, she felt relatively back to normal. 

“ _Here you go,_ ” she chirped, tossing Ash the soap. Ash grinned as he caught it, immediately bringing it to his nose to inhale deeply. 

Sanga watched with amusement as Ash splashed around more than washed, as pleased with the impromptu bath as he had been with the first snowfall they witnessed as they journeyed through the mountains. She showed him how to use the grooming comb, and he was thoroughly pleased with it, too. When he sat with his back against the wall of the basin, presenting the back of his head to her, Sanga obligingly stepped forward with the shears, trimming his hair with familiar ease. 

She very pointedly did _not_ look at his shoulders. She also did _not_ wonder if the lines of lighter fur criss-crossing his back, denoting where he bore the scars from the light-whips, was coarser than the rest. 

Ash flashed her one of his sweet, shy smiles when she was done, rinsing the loose hair off himself. “ _Thanks, Sanga._ ”

Sanga returned the smile and mentally added ten repetitions to her penance that night. 

“Excuse me?” 

Sanga looked towards the street entrance of the courtyard, stiffening at the sight of a stranger in a light tunic with a symbol painted on the front that she faintly recognized but couldn’t quite place. Behind her, she could sense Ash going still, coiling like a spring, ready to strike should it be needed. 

“Yes? What does the Council want, young Runner?” Ishotselah answered the stranger, propping her hands on her hips; not aggressive, merely brisk. Sanga abruptly realized how she recognized the symbol on the tunic; she had seen it on banners displayed in the Council chamber. This Intseh must be a messenger of the Council. She relaxed. 

“Just delivering a message,” the Intseh puffed, clearly a little out of breath. “The search for any relation of Ashivon is so far unsuccessful.” 

“Oh,” Ash breathed into the ensuing silence. Sanga winced, turning to comfort her disappointed friend. She hugged him over the lip of the basin, uncaring he was still wet and the contact was soaking her clothes when he clung to her like that. 

“The search is ongoing,” the Insteh offered, sounding apologetic. “We will keep looking. The Council just wanted you to know.” 

Ash nodded slightly, burying his face in Sanga’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, Runner,” Ishotselah sighed. There was a soft noise of acknowledgement, then the messenger was gone. 

Sanga sighed, the good mood of the afternoon now ruined. “They’ll find something,” she murmured softly into Ash’s hair, trying to sound much more sure than she felt. 

Ash did not respond. 

  
  
  


“Halloo!” 

Ash looked up from his book at the unfamiliar call, frowning and tensing. On the step under her window, he saw from the corner of his eye Sanga tense as well, her hands pausing in their task of peeling a fruit. The other occupants of the courtyard- Vrahlavon showing the three youngest how to repair a fishing net in a patch of sunshine- barely even looked up, but he and Sanga remained tense. 

Yarethelah and Nalitalvon appearing from the archway that led to the rooms they shared with Tselah, both smiling warmly and relaxed, prompted him and Sanga to relax as well, though they remained curiously watching. 

The Intseh that stepped into the courtyard was unlike any other he had ever seen. To his confusion and admittedly, excitement, this Intseh was more willowy and narrow than the average person in Rohvrehvoavan, though they were dressed normally in a simple spring green tunic with a yellow pattern and the pale trousers common here, and most surprising of all, they were not black and white. Instead, they were a white and kind of dark brown, slightly mottled where their darker color merged with the lighter, and their eyes were a rich warm violet. 

This strange Intseh barely seemed to notice him and Sanga, their attention seeming to be solely focused on Yarethelah. They beamed happily, moving forward with a bouncy step to take Yarethelah’s outstretched hand in a familiar manner. “Ah, Yarethelah! How are you doing today?” the Intseh questioned brightly, leading Yarethelah forward into the courtyard and to sit upon the edge of the table, Nalitalvon trailing behind and hovering protectively over her mate. 

“Well enough, for the last season of a pregnancy,” Yarethelah chuckled, good humor on her face as she leaned back, propped up on her arms behind her, letting the strange Intseh flit closer and run deft hands over her belly. Like Sanga had, that first day here. “This one likes to dance in the night, while I’m trying to sleep.” 

“A rambunctious one, eh?” the Intseh chortled, abruptly pausing and looking directly at Sanga, who had stood from the step and drifted closer. Sanga jumped and flushed, but the unabashed interest in her expression remained. The Intseh smiled and shifted one of their ears, clearly communicating the mild questioning reproach of a raised eyebrow. “And who’s this?” 

Sanga straightened her shoulders and advanced a bit more, lifting her chin stubbornly. “I’m Sanga.” She worried the fruit in her hands, almost hesitant as she searched for words and asked, “You’re a... baby healer, yes?” 

The Intseh nodded. “I’m Shiovehra. A midwife,” they introduced themselves with a small, self-depreciating chuckle. “Not really a healer, I can’t do anything more advanced than set a bone, and that only if I have to! I really only work with expecting chevo and little babies.” 

Sanga brightened, suddenly nearly shouting. “I’m healer too! I have many questions-” she paused, abruptly reigning herself in with a sheepish look at Yarethelah. “I-If that’s ok?” 

Yarethelah laughed gently, merely gesturing her closer, Sanga eagerly bounding up. Nalitalvon and Yarethelah both chuckled indulgently. Ash smiled to himself as he watched Sanga shift into her element, Shiovehra able to give much more detailed, in-depth answers than Ishoteselah had been able to and Sanga finally able to both ask questions and understand the answers without a translator. She was still struggling with reading, but her now regular outings with Vrahlavon and Tortorahlah had, as promised, improved her conversational skills immensely. Ash settled back in his hammock, book forgotten, contentedly watching. 

Finally, Sanga leaned back, beaming. “I think I got it. Thank you for the lesson, Shiovehra.” She offered the midwife a little bow of respect like Yarethelah had taught them, that the slender Intseh returned with a smile. Sanga turned to Yarethelah next, offering her a little bow too. “Thank you for being a learning-book.” 

The large Intseh chuckled, waving it off. “Not a problem. Hardly the first curious kit to poke and prod and ask questions about little ones.” 

Sanga giggled, then went strangely sober. Reluctantly, she asked, “Um... I hope this isn’t rude, but...” 

“Spit it out, kit,” Nalitalvon chuckled wryly, rolling her eyes. 

Sanga blushed, but blurted, “Who’s the baby’s sire?” 

Frowns settled on the three Intseh’s faces, but they were confused rather than angry, Ash was relieved to note. Still, he sat up, interested as well. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the four brothers do the same. 

“I am,” Nalitalvon answered slowly. “Who else could it be? Our third has been gone for a decade now.” 

“Well of course you’re their other chevo,” Sanga hurried to explain herself, blushing darker and the Intsehli clearly becoming more difficult as she grew more flustered. “But... who actually _sired_ this kit? Where did the other half come from?” 

“Still me,” Nalitalvon quipped, quirking a questioning ear now. The brothers had ceased even pretending they were focusing on the nets, their own ears quirked questioningly in Sanga’s direction. 

Sanga huffed, crossing her arms. “If you don’t want to say, that’s fine, I respect that, but I don’t like being lied to.” 

“Why would that be a lie?” Shiovehra took a turn questioning, posture the most confused and least offended of the bunch after Sanga’s accusation. 

“Well, because Nalitalvon has also borne. They said so,” Sanga shrugged. 

“So?” 

Ash stiffened at the same time Sanga did. “So? What do you mean, so?” his friend demanded, looking like the midwife had just casually claimed the sky was purple or mountains could speak. “You can’t bear and also sire.” 

“Well, humans might not,” Shiovehra shrugged. “But Intseh can.” 

“Did you not wonder why Ahnva and Tselah both look like me?” Nalitalvon questioned, suddenly seeming highly amused. 

Sanga’s face began to go pale in shock, and her eyes darted to the mentioned Intseh across the courtyard. “I... you mentioned you bore...” she winced. “Which one did you say you bore, again?” 

“Ishva,” Nalitalvon obligingly repeated with a little shrug. “All Intseh can sire and bear kits equally. Who carries and who sires is a matter of preference.” 

There was a long pause. 

Abruptly, Sanga turned to glare at Tselah. “Did you know about this?!” 

“Um... yeah?” Tselah answered slowly, bewilderment in his- was he a he, actually? Ash suddenly wondered- voice. “Everybody knows that.” 

“Humans can’t do both?” Vrahlavon interjected, sounding just as confused as his sibling. 

“No! No we cannot!” Sanga burst, flushing red again. “Either you can bear or you can sire, you can’t do both!” 

“That’s weird,” Ahnva muttered, flat nose wrinkling. “What if you don’t wanna pick?” 

“Well you don’t _pick_ , exactly,” Sanga sighed, hiding her red face in one of her hands. “You’re born only able to do one or the other.” 

“That sounds... dreadful,” Yarethelah frowned. “And complicated. What if there’s more sires than bearers? Or two bearers or two sires wish to produce a kit? Or someone wants to perform the other role?” 

“It’s... complicated,” Sanga sighed, lifting her hands away from her face finally, her face a mask of resigned disbelief. “There’s options, of course, but... you know, let’s just leave it at ‘complicated’.” 

“Which one are you?” Shiovehra suddenly asked, suddenly intensely curious. “Bearer? Or sire?” 

Sanga’s face did a complicated little twist, flickering through several emotions before finally settling on resigned amusement. “Bearer,” she answered. Slowly, she shook her head. “And I always thought Ash was a sire. It’s so weird to know he could bear a child too. Ash, did you know this?” 

Suddenly every eye in the courtyard was on him, and he shrank away from them, even as his mind whirled, his own eyes locked on Yarethelah’s bulging belly. 

He had known he was _capable_ of making life in theory, of course he had, just like Sanga was aware she could despite also never having done so. It was logical; he was a living creature, it stood to reason like any other living creature he should be capable. But he had never really thought about it. The idea of a demon in the arena giving life to a child, nurturing a child in any capacity, had been... so remote. So incompatible with his existence that it might as well have not even applied to him. But now... 

Ash looked down at his own belly and wondered. 

“Ashivon?” Yarethelah called next, sounding concerned. He looked up again, startled out of his thoughts, still hunched. She hesitated before asking gently, “Exactly how old were you when you were taken to the human lands?” 

Ash shrugged. “Seven, eight winters?” 

Nalitalvon, Yarethelah, and Shiovehra exchanged a look he could only describe as concerned. 

“Well there goes my afternoon,” Shiovehra sighed, shaking their head and opening the shoulder bag they had been carrying, rummaging around for a bit before drawing out a thin learning-book and pulling up a cushion, settling at the table. They made eye contact with him, then Sanga, gesturing for them both to come join them at the table. “Come on. Let’s clear up a few things. Kits, you’re welcome if you want.” 

His brothers turned dismissively back to their nets, but Tselah immediately bounded over, ears perked curiously and Sanga got a faintly scandalized look on her face, freezing, but Ash cautiously stood and went to the table, more than a little curious. After a moment, Sanga joined him at the table across from Shiovehra, still red but he could tell she was also reluctantly curious. Nalitalvon and Yarethelah also settled around the table, on Shiovehra’s side, both exuding patient amusement. 

Shiovehra offered them each a smile and cracked open the book, turning it around to show them a brightly colored, _uncomfortably_ detailed diagram of an Intseh from the side. “Alright. So, when an Intseh decides they want a baby...” 

  
  
  


“... and that’s how babies are conceived and birthed,” Shiovehra concluded. “Questions?” 

Sanga was fairly sure her face was about to burst into flame. Questions? How could she have a _question?_ Shiovehra was... _thorough._ Sanga was now certain she knew more about Intseh reproduction than human. Though it did clear up why Ash had never realized, since he didn’t bleed every month like she did. Which now that she was thinking on it, seemed wildly unfair. 

“ _Great and small Gods, your faces!_ ” Vrahlavon cackled, clutching his sides. Sanga groaned and buried her hot face into the cradle of her arms, folded on top of the table, Ash beside her stiff as a board and fairly radiating discomfort. 

She wasn’t sure she could ever look him in the eye again. Her? She winced. No, Ash would always be a him in her mind. Even knowing he was just as capable as herself of carrying a child and had an... _opening_ like herself, she had known him as a male too long to comfortably call him anything else. 

Well, at least she knew why she had so much trouble pegging male and female Intseh now. Apparently the terms didn’t even _apply._

Tselah piped up, sounding infuriatingly calm and innocently curious. “When will I be old enough to try making babies?” 

Sanga bolted straight upright, jaw dropping, but before she could even get a syllable of knee-jerk reprimand out, Nalitalvon was answering him, expression and voice very stern. “When you’re _much_ older and _mated._ ” Yarethelah nodded sagely in agreement and she relaxed. 

Thank the Saint, at least they agreed on something. 

  
  
  


Naturally, Tselah was the first one to wake. The months on the road had made them a light sleeper, so even though they were curled up in Nalitalvon’s arms and not even making contact with them, Yarathelah’s jolt and gasp as they were catapulted from deep sleep to full consciousness by the sharp, bright pain of birth-pangs was all that was needed to cause their firstborne to stir, sleepily mumbling, “Daschev...?” 

Yarethelah took a moment to be annoyed at their newest kit for robbing them of yet another full night of sleep before offering Tselah a reassuring smile, exhaling out their frustration and beginning their breathing exercises. “It’s alright, Tselfa. Your little sibling has just decided to be a nighttime birth,” they explained simply, before turning their attention to their still blissfully slumbering mate. 

Not for much longer, Yarethelah thought with a kind of grim humor. They reached out to grasp Nalitalvon’s shoulder, shaking them until they stirred, grunting without even opening their eyes, “Later.” 

“No, _now- Ah!_ ” Yarethelah’s snap in return was interrupted with their cry of pain at another birth-pang. The cry caught Nalitalvon’s attention, their smaller mate finally rousing completely and turning wide, surprised eyes to Yarethelah. Somewhat unnecessarily, Yarethelah explained shortly, “The little one is coming.” 

“Oh. OH.” Nalitalvon froze for a moment before breaking out into a slightly manic grin and rising, darting to the side of the bed closest to Yarethelah. “Oh Gods- Tselfa! Go wake the others, quick! Wake your Tsahvo first-” 

“On it!” Tselah chirped, darting from the room at top speed, which for Tselah was saying something. 

“Two speeds,” Yarethelah chuckled breathlessly as they grabbed Nalitalvon’s hand, letting them help them sit up. “That kit only has two speeds.” 

“Hopefully this one follows their example,” Nalitalvon huffed, wincing sympathetically when Yarethelah grit their jaw and hissed in discomfort as they carefully stood, leaning heavily on Nalitalvon. The smaller Intseh grunted softly, but took Yarethelah’s weight without complaint, carefully guiding them forward, out into the hall. “Just breathe, that’s it, you’re doing great my soul-” 

“Yes, thank you, I’ve done this before,” Yarethelah snapped irritably, wincing and hissing at the next pang. 

Ashivon had also been roused by the noise they made, already alert and out of their hammock by the time they stepped foot into the courtyard. They were tense and confused, tail lashing agitatedly, but not quite feral yet, which Yarethelah was endlessly grateful for. They would undoubtedly relax when they realized what was happening. “Teacher?” they called, rusty voice lilted a bit in concern. 

Sanga’s sleepy face appeared in the storeroom window a moment later, also confused. 

Yarethelah mustered up a small smile for them both as they breathed through the pain. “Everything’s fine, it’s just birthing time.” 

Which Tselah helpfully reiterated as they appeared from the direction of Ishotselah’s room, darting through the courtyard and shouting gleefully, “THE BABY’S COMING! THE BABY’S COMING! THE-” before disappearing out onto the street- off to fetch the healers, no doubt. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Sanga piped up, suddenly seeming much more awake. “Can I help?” 

“Of course,” Ishotselah grumbled, gracious despite their grumpiness, stiffly trundling into the courtyard with the birthing blanket. “Ugh, my old bones are getting too stiff for this. Sangava, go heat some water, would you? A nice big jug of it.” 

Sanga grunted an affirmative, moving almost as quickly as Tselah as they- no, she, Yarethelah corrected themself, the idea of a distinct term still such a strange one- as she joined the fray, making her way towards the kitchen with a determined stride. 

“There’s a good kit. Thank you little one,” Ishotselah sighed gratefully as she passed, pausing in laying out the birthing blanket on the table and reaching out to pat her messy hair as she passed, Sanga flashing a tight smile but not pausing. Yarethelah had just enough attention to spare to wonder why she looked so worried before they were being laid out on the blanket-covered table, all their attention taken up by the business of kit-birthing. 

  
  
  


Ash flinched when Yarethelah gave another shout of pain, gut curdling with uncertainty. Nervously, he glanced at Yarethelah and Nalitalvon’s other kits, his anxiety only ratcheting up when he found the five brothers sitting together, none of them appearing uneasy at the scene unfolding a few paces away. 

After Ishotselah had prepared the family table with the stained off-green sheet and Yarethelah had been laid upon it, Nalitalvon had taken up a sentinel position at Yarethelah’s head and let them lean their upper body against them, bracing their larger mates’ shoulders, crooning soft encouragement and petting whatever parts of Yarethelah they could reach. Ishotselah and Sanga, after she had returned with the hot water, flitted about Yarethelah purposefully, joined shortly by two more Intseh led by Tselah, Midwife Shiovehra and another person Shiovehra introduced shortly to Sanga as Healer Gratlehtal, an older, heavier set Intseh with curling horns and a jovial disposition. After the arrival of the healers, Ishotselah retreated somewhat, taking a moment to light the lamps and then went to sit at Yarethelah’s side instead, holding the large Intseh’s hand and offering their own crooning comfort, a steadier presence than Nalitalvon’s more frantic energy. Ash couldn’t quite follow the conversation of the three healers; honestly he wasn’t quite sure Sanga was totally following it either, but despite Yarethelah’s cries becoming more insistent and more frequent, the healers seemed pleased. The only one that seemed to share his worry at all was Sanga, and even her worry was easing. 

It was to this scene the brothers had entered, wandering sleepily into the courtyard on Tselah’s heels and settling in a pile near Ash’s trees. Close enough to observe easily, but far enough that they were out of the way. Tselah and Ahnva were the two most awake, excitedly fidgeting and chattering at each other about what they hoped the baby would turn out like, Kahanla and Ishva snuggling drowsily. Vrahlavon was awake, but merely half-smiled, amused at their siblings, apparently lacking in energy for now. 

Ash was bewildered. Did they not see their parent was in pain? Was this... normal? No one had mentioned kit-birthing would be so... violent. 

Vrahlavon must have sensed his eyes on them, looking up with a soft frown and curiously quirked ears to meet Ash’s gaze. “Ashivon?” they called gently. 

Ash hesitated, not sure how to pose his questions without sounding accusatory or rude, when suddenly Yarethelah shouted again, louder, this time the sound accompanied by the sharp tang of blood in the air. 

“Whoa! Easy, easy,” Vrahlavon cried, surprised then hurriedly soothing as Ash dropped into a defensive crouch, twisting to bare claw and fang and snarl in the direction of the blood-smell, tunneled vision searching for the enemy that had caused the injury- 

“ _Ash, hun, it’s ok,_ ” Sanga’s voice joined Vrahlavon’s, her gentle face swimming into focus as she shifted to stand between him and the table, her hands extended palms out in a placating gesture. “ _Look at me...”_

“ _Blood,_ ” he managed to snarl out, voice more guttural than normal even to his own ears. “ _Who’s hurting Yarethelah?_ ” 

Sanga grimaced. “ _Oh Saint. Should have thought of that. Ash, hun, no one’s hurting Yarethelah, it’s ok-_ ” 

“What’s wrong?” Vrahlavon asked, still alarmed. 

“Ash has never witnessed a birth before,” Sanga hurriedly explained. “And I forgot to let him know what to expect. It’s upsetting him. Um, let me just-” she bit her lip, glancing back at the table, clearly torn. 

“I’ll come with you,” Vrahlavon volunteered. “Once we’ve got him away and calmed down a bit, I’ll stay with him so you can come back.” 

Sanga shot him a thankful smile. “Ok. Ash,” she turned back to him, her hands now beckoning instead of placating as she started to walk towards the street. “ _Come on, big guy, let’s take a walk..._ ” 

Slowly, reluctantly, he followed, still unnerved by the situation but willing to trust his friend. Vrahlavon followed him, careful to keep a few paces between them. She turned out to be right once again, the more distance they put between the smells and sounds of the birthing the more Ash felt awareness and control return. Finally, nearly at the end of the street, when Sanga extended her hand he reached for it, curling his fingers around hers. 

Her smile was brilliant, even in the moonlight. “ _There you are. It’s ok, Ash. Everything’s going to be fine, I promise._ ” She gently guided him to sit on a convenient stair, her free hand smoothing down his hackles and fussing over him comfortingly while Vrahlavon watched with observant eyes. Her eyes flicked back up the street, back the way they had come, a flash of impatience in her eyes before it was gone and she was smiling at him again. “ _Feeling better?_ ” 

Ash nodded, suddenly feeling sheepish. Yarethelah needed her more than he, and he was distracting her. He squeezed the hand he still held, flashing her a mostly sincere smile before releasing her hand and flicking her lightly with his tail. “ _Go. Go help._ ” 

Despite her obvious desire to do so, she still hesitated, worry clear in her eyes. “ _You sure?_ ” 

Overwhelming fondness welled up in his chest, causing him to smile more genuinely this time. He leaned forward, lightly butting her forehead with his own in an affectionate gesture he had seen many Intseh do, mindful of his horns. “ _Yeah. Go. I’ll be ok._ ” 

“ _If you’re sure._ ” She returned the gentle head-press, then stood, turning to Vrahlavon. “Are you sure you’re ok to stay with him?” 

Vrahlavon offered her a little dismissive motion. “Oh yeah. I’ve seen it all before, I’m not missing out on anything. We’ll hang out right here until all the fireworks are done, Kahanla can watch the little ones. You go learn.” 

Sanga threw herself at their middle in a hug the Intseh accepted and returned easily. “Thanks, Vrahlavon. You’re the best.” 

“What are friends for?” they chuckled, then released her and also flicked her with their tail. “Go.” 

Sanga shot them both one last smile and then dashed back up the street. Ash watched her go with a twinge of regret. 

“Do you mind?” 

Ash looked up at Vrahlavon, who had drifted closer and was gesturing to a stone ledge that formed a kind of banister for the staircase he was sitting on, the other Intseh’s intention clear. Ash shook his head no, making a gesture of welcome towards the ledge. 

“Thanks.” Vrahlavon settled on the ledge with a little sigh, pulling up their legs to cross, then chuckled wryly. “You’ve really never seen a birth before? Not even livestock?” 

He bit his lip and shook his head. “I used to watch the birds that would nest in the yard I lived by sometimes,” he muttered, looking down to study the patterns in the marbled stone steps between them and curling in on himself, wrapping his arms around his legs. “Every spring, they would lay eggs. I-I assumed for a long time all babies came into the world the same way. Sanga told me about birthing while we were on the road, and Shiovehra told us the rest, but I’ve never seen it before.” He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Are all births like that? So... violent?” 

Vrahlavon shrugged nonchalantly. “Most.” 

Ash grimaced, his tone utter confusion as he asked, “Why does anyone get pregnant?” 

The other Intseh laughed, amused rather than mocking, eyes dancing as they relaxed. “No one does it because they like kit-birthing, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Then why?” he insisted, bafflement turning to frustration. “Why cause yourself pain if it can be avoided?” 

Vrahlavon’s smile faded somewhat, a more serious contemplation leaching into their eyes. After a long, thoughtful pause, Vrahlavon asked slowly, “Ashivon, what if I told you in order to meet Sanga, you would have to suffer great pain for several hours, perhaps days?” 

Ash paused, blinking. He carefully considered the question. “Do I know that is what will happen at the end? That it’s Sanga I will meet?” he asked, just as slowly. 

Vrahlavon shook their head no. “You know you will meet someone. Someone who will be very important to you. But it’s a mystery who, and you know for a fact if you do not do it, they will never be.” 

“Not even-?” 

“ _Never,_ ” Vrahlavon emphasized the word heavily, looking up at the still dark sky. “It’s the only way.” 

He huffed, curling up tighter. “That’s not fair,” he whispered, voice small. 

“Maybe not,” Vrahlavon shrugged. “But life generally isn’t. It’s still worth it.” 

“I thought...” 

Vrahlavon looked back at him when he trailed off, their golden eyes gentle. “Thought what?” they prompted. 

Ash swallowed painfully, but obligingly continued in a grating whisper. “I thought I was done with pain. That to be free of _Divinity_ was to be free of pain too. Sanga...” he paused to take a deep breath, hoping to calm his breathing’s quickening pace, sight going blurry. Dimly he realized he was about to cry. “Sanga promised no one could hurt me anymore.” 

“Hey, hey,” Vrahlavon crooned soothingly, cautiously rising and shifting to sit close, hesitating only a moment before wrapping Ash’s larger frame in a hug. He stiffened, taken by surprise, but Vrahlavon merely hugged him tighter, lightly nuzzling the top of his head. “I know you don’t usually go for cuddles, but suck it up for five minutes,” Vrahlavon grumbled in that faux irritable way they would sometimes tease their younger siblings with. “A’i, relax. It’s ok. Relax, relax...” 

Their hand lightly traveled up and down his back, soothing as they murmured reassurances. It was... nice. Cautiously, he relaxed into the hold, letting his face turn into the velvety curve of Vrahlavon’s shoulder. Their other hand curled around the back of his skull, lightly holding him there and playing with his hair. Vrahlavon was smaller than himself, but not by much; it was very different from when Sanga would hold him sometimes, the Intseh lanky and sinewy where Sanga was compact and soft, and a world away from Tselah curling up in his lap or Yarethelah’s delicate touches. But the warmth in Vrahlavon’s arms was the same as the warmth in Sanga’s. 

Ash cautiously decided he didn’t mind cuddles so much. 

“There you go,” Vrahlavon sighed, pride and approval coloring their voice, and Ash felt a flush of pleased warmth bloom in his chest. “Not so bad, huh? Now as for Sanga’s promise, she wasn’t wrong. No one is allowed to hurt you anymore,” they explained gently. “But it’s not because they can’t. Simply that she will not allow it to happen, and you don’t have to let it happen either. But some things no one can control. Pain is a natural aspect of living. No matter what, there’s still going to be scraped knees and bumps and bruises and broken bones and kit-birthing. It’s not the end of the world.” 

“Nothing here has hurt yet,” he pointed out petulantly. 

Vrahlavon laughed without pausing in the cuddles, the sound a pleasant rumble in their chest. “I don’t mean every day. Just sometimes. Everything passes in time, that’s both life’s blessing and its curse.” 

Ash mulled that thought over. “Everything?” 

“Everything,” they agreed, tone taking on the cadence of storytelling. “A breath, or a heartbeat, only lasts moments. A day or night hours. Creatures are born, grow, die, and become something else in the span of seasons. Sometimes we hurt, sometimes we laugh. Both are fleeting, and rarely is something worth having that one doesn’t have to pay for. Someday we all die, and in dying are born anew. It’s the way of things.” 

They both lapsed into silence, holding and being held in the cool night. Ash turned Vrahlavon’s words over and over in his mind, considering them; not quite realizing as he did he continued to curl closer and closer to the fellow Intseh until he was nearly in Vrahlavon’s lap, his hands curled loosely in the darker Intseh’s tunic. 

Slowly, Ash adjusted to the idea. He didn’t quite like it, but he could see Vrahlavon’s points. Despite understanding, though, he couldn’t quite help the niggling feeling that it was all just so... _unfair._

  
  
  


“Here it comes... Ey!” Healer Gratlehtal beamed, stepping back from the table, a tiny wriggling form cradled delicately in his big hands. In a moment, Yarethelah’s bellows of pain and effort were silenced, only to be replaced with the high, displeased wail of an infant. 

Sanga felt her face split into a grin, watching as Healer Gratlehtal handed the squirming baby to Shiovehra, who received it with a bright grin of her own and carried it to a nearby basin she had already prepared to clean it up, allowing the Healer to return his attention back to Yarethelah. Sanga helped him stem Yarethelah’s bleeding, making sure there were no tears or other complications, and gently cleaning the viscera off Yarethelah. The bleeding stopped surprisingly fast, and only a scant few minutes after they were done, Yarethelah was able to stand- with considerable assistance from her mate and parent, granted, but she was on her own two feet- and hobble back toward her bedroom, Shiovehra with the now clean and swaddled but still screeching infant right behind them, and the rest of Yarethelah's children trailing after. 

Sanga sat back, taking a breath. Dawn was just barely turning the sky pink; while the birth had been a decent length, a few grueling hours, she was shocked to realize the actual expulsion of the infant and aftercare had only taken a scant few minutes, less than half an hour all told. Both Yarethelah _and_ the baby were alive, and bouncing back quickly it seemed. She whistled lowly, causing Healer Gratlehtal to look up from washing his hands with a curiously quirked ear. 

“That was amazing,” she chuckled breathlessly, making the healer bark a laugh, but understanding shone in his eyes, so she continued as she stepped forward to wash herself. “That must have been the smoothest birth I’ve ever seen! I must admit, I was concerned when I realized you didn’t have _Light Healing_ to stop the bleeding, but-” 

“Have what?” Gratlehtal interrupted her gently with a soft confused frown. 

“Oh, a healing technique from... where I’m from,” she explained vaguely, not quite ready to explain how she had lost her magic. Thankfully, Gratlehtal seemed to accept her answer with a nod, his brow un-furrowing. 

“Ah, I see. Yes, Midwife Shiovehra did mention you were a healer in your hometown,” he hummed, a thoughtful look entering his eye. “May I ask, are you intending to take up that mantle here as well?” 

Sanga nodded, following him as they moved to start cleaning up everything else- the green sheet Ishotselah had laid out made it much easier, Sanga assumed that was its purpose- and answering as they worked. “Right now Ash- Ashivon, the big one from earlier- and I are still learning Insehli, and we’re waiting to see if the Council can locate Ash’s family, so I’ve been waiting to find a Healer to apprentice to, but as soon as Ash and I are settled I intend to.” 

Gratlehtal hummed thoughtfully. “Might not need to wait that long.” 

Sanga paused, turning to face him. “Are you offering?” 

“Perhaps.” He tied off the rough cloth sack they had shoved all the cleaning rags, their bloodied aprons, and the big sheet into, glancing around attentively. Sanga joined him, checking they hadn’t missed anything, but the courtyard was now spotless, returned to its former state save for the lingering odor of blood, which was quickly dissipating. Finally, he turned to face her again, this time propping his hands on his hips and examining her with his whole attention. She straightened under his scrutiny, lifting her chin. 

“You showed a level-headedness and calm under pressure that normally takes years to teach apprentices, Sanga. In fact, after what I just observed from you, I think I could teach you in under a year what is normally taught in five.” 

She blinked, stunned. “Really?” 

“Yes,” he nodded, solemn. “But before I would agree to take you on, I must first ask you one question.” 

“Ask,” she invited eagerly. 

“If you had to choose between saving your patient, and helping Ashivon,” he asked bluntly, his words like a punch to the gut, “Which would you choose?” 

Sanga felt her face fall and pale. She swallowed dryly. Croaked, “I...” 

Gratlethal held up a stalling hand, shaking their big head and turning back to the basin to wash the last away from his hands in fresh water. “Take a moment. Think about it first. I need you to be _certain_.” 

Sanga watched him clean blankly, slowly lowering herself to sit on the edge of the table, perfectly still as her thoughts raced. 

Which _would_ she pick, push come to shove? 

“Come on!” 

Tsleah’s excited shout jolted her from her thoughts, Sanga’s head snapping up to see him pull into the courtyard from the street, leading both Ash and Vrahlavon by the hands, both older Intseh smiling fondly at him as they ambled after. 

“Ts- oh, there you are,” Kahanla appeared from the direction of her parents’ bedroom, stopping short in the doorway, her normally pinched and stern face open and relaxed. “What took you so long?” 

“Vrahlavon and Ashivon were cuddling, they needed a minute,” Tselah reported with a little shrug. Sanga raised an eyebrow, but neither Intseh named protested or seemed embarrassed, so she decided to let it go. 

“Oh, I see,” Kahanla nodded, accepting this excuse easily. “Well come on, Daschev wants us all to meet the baby.” 

Sanga swallowed thickly as she watched Tselah lead Ash and Vrahlavon to meet Kahanla, observed the absolute ease the three blood siblings included Ash like he was one of their own, and suddenly realized she was seeing a glimpse of Ash’s future. With his own family, of course, when they found them, but... it would be _his_ family. A family of Intseh. And he was already becoming more independent, more calm and confident- 

Soon he wouldn’t need her anymore. He would always be dear to her, and she was sure he would always hold her close to his heart in turn, but... 

“Sanga?” 

She blinked, refocusing on the present again, finding the four had paused in the doorway, all of them looking at her. Ash looked nervous and jumpy, a little pleading- he was getting better, but enclosed spaces were still such a _struggle_ for him- while the three brothers merely appeared to be patiently waiting. 

Kahanla spoke again. “Aren’t you coming? Daschev wants you to meet the baby too.” 

Sanga couldn’t help the grin that pulled at her mouth. Soon, she knew. And she would prepare for that day, herself and Ash. 

But not today.

“Minute,” she called back, then turned to Gratlethal, all uncertainty gone from her. “The patient. I would protect the patient.” 

He nodded sharply. “Good. Come to my office at first light tomorrow morning.” A smile, warm and grandfatherly, crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Today, rest. You’ll need it.” She nodded, flashing him an answering grin, before turning to follow the others. Ash's hand slid, warm and comforting, into hers, and she squeezed it just because she could.

Yarethelah and Nalitalvon’s room was dim and restful, a large bed taking up most of it. The bed was large enough that nearly everyone gathered in the room was upon it, creating a haphazard nest of bodies and bedding with Yarethelah and the babe cradled to her chest the serene center of it all. Vrahlavon, Kahanla, and Tselah joined the others without hesitation, squirming and elbowing their ways to comfortable positions themselves, the others shifting to accept them with ease. Only Sanga, Ash and Shiovehra stood, the midwife performing some kind of check on the baby while crooning at it, before finally pulling back and grinning. 

“They’re healthy and beautiful,” she announced. “Rest and bonding for everyone today. Congratulations.” 

“Thank you,” Nalitalvon grinned back, beamingly proud and seemingly physically entwined with both her mate and new child. Yarethelah nodded in agreement, but did not spare the midwife any more attention than that. She seemed to take no offense, merely nodding and sweeping out of the room. 

She and Ash watched as the family crowded around, all of them watching as Yarethelah carefully unwrapped the child, then placed it on her chest, letting it curl close to its bearer, skin-to-skin, with sleepy little snuffles. The child was nearly completely white, speckles of black sprayed over its face, head, shoulders, and down its spine, and a little black on the tips of its toes. It had no horns yet, but its ears were long and rounded, like Tselah and Yarethelah’s, though they pointed more down than up, almost draping. 

And they were _tiny._ Even smaller than some human babies Sanga had seen delivered, nearly dwarfed by Yarethelah’s large hands. No wonder the birthing had been easier. 

“Wow,” Tselah breathed, his eyes wide as he reached out to lightly stroke the baby’s back. “What’s their name?” 

Neither parent hesitated, both answering at the same time, “Mihravon.” 

The adults of the group all exchanged looks, the shadow of some mourning emotion passing over the mood, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. 

Ishotselah smiled, their eyes wet. “Mihraleh would have been proud,” they hummed, taking a turn stroking the infant when Tselah’s hand retreated. One by one, each member of the family took a turn touching the baby, cooing welcome and introduction, though no one made a move to try and take the baby, Yarethelah continuing to hold it and gazing rapturously at the child, like they were the Face of a God. The entire scene was just so sweetly intimate, Sanga was torn between wanting to coo and feeling like she was intruding. 

Finally, Yarethelah looked up, her golden gaze landing on her and Ash, the pair of them still loitering at the edge of the bed, though Ash had begun to fidget uncomfortably. She considered them for a moment, then smiled and turned to Nalitalvon. “I know it’s proper for the chevoa to hold the newborn first, then the tsahvoa,” she glanced at Ishotselah, “but seeing as Ashivon is about done being indoors already, would anyone mind if I have them hold Mihravon first?” 

Ash startled next to her, and Sanga squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

Both Nalitalvon and Ishotselah shook their heads no, smiling indulgently and making murmurs of assent. Yarethelah’s smile widened, and her gaze turned back to them. She held out a hand to Ash. “Would you like to hold them?” 

Ash hesitated, and when Sanga glanced up at him, found him biting his lip and eying the crowd on the bed uncertainly. Sanga bit back her own wry smile. 

“Here,” she volunteered, releasing his hand to dive in and wade delicately through the tangle and approach Yarethelah, holding out her hands. The large Intseh didn’t hesitate, carefully shifting the infant from her arms to Sanga’s. Mihravon’s fur was downy-soft, the child a warm weight in her arms, tail lashing aimlessly against Sanga’s thighs and belly, abruptly _real_ in a way they hadn’t been before as they curled close to her breast. Sanga carefully carried them to the edge of the pile, settling down cross-legged on the edge of the bed, facing Ash. She nodded to the floor in front of her. “Sit. It’s best to be sitting the first few times, just in case.” 

Ash gracefully folded to sit before her, the height difference provided by the bed putting them almost face-to-face. He eyed the baby warily, like it was a wild animal he wasn’t sure yet if it was going to bite. Sanga bit back a giggle at such a huge, dangerous creature being intimidated by a mere _infant_. 

“Hold your arms out, like this,” she coached him gently, guiding him into the correct position to cradle an infant, Ash clearly dubious but obediently following her instructions. “... just like that. Good. Here.” 

Carefully, she transferred Mihravon to Ash’s arms, shushing her wordlessly when she began to fuss mid-move, though she settled once tucked up against Ash, the babe instinctively nuzzling into Ash’s chest with a small sigh, tiny hands curling into his fur. 

A breath escaped her in a whoosh, Sanga beaming at the sight of the baby curled in Ash’s strong arms. “There you go,” she praised. “Not so bad, huh, Ash?” 

Silence. 

Her gaze flicked up to his face, concerned. “Ash?” 

Ash was frozen, staring wide-eyed at Mihravon, stunned shock on his face. 

“Ashivon?” This time, it was Vrahlavon that spoke, concern in his voice too, but he subsided when Sanga made a quelling gesture in his direction. She recognized this expression. She had first seen it when she showed the little demon in the cell her writing slate for the first time, and last seen it as her best friend watched the first sunrise he had seen in years. 

“ _She’s beautiful._ ” Sanga murmured softly. 

Ash nodded jerkily in agreement, his eyes never leaving the now sleeping baby. Softly, he whispered, “ _I thought... she might flinch._ ” 

Away from the hands of a demon, Sanga heard, even if he didn’t say. She forced herself to smile and answer. 

“ _Why would she?_ ” 

Ash didn’t look up or reply. Sanga wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed the tears tracking silently down his face, but if they did, they didn’t mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *showing up 15 years late, in sweatpants and no makeup, with Starbucks, knowing full well how late I am*
> 
> Also me, without a shred of shame: Hope I didn't keep you waiting. 
> 
> So.... yeah. Stuff. So much stuff has happened since March. Oh sweet Lord March was only four months ago... But this is not the place to infect with real-world hateful stupid, that slot is quite aptly filled here by Divinity, thankyouverymuch, so we will leave it at that since I'm sure all of you catch my drift. Top it off with a side order of Clone Wars finished and I finally got to see the last of it, so I've been distracted by all of THOSE feels... Suffice it to say, this story is NOT dead and I am still trying to write it! Please take this nearly double length chapter as an apology. Thank you all for your lovely comments and various forms of encouragement, including kudos, bookmarks and subscribing! Those things have been the only thing keeping me working on this story, and I appreciate every one of you. 
> 
> I've had a couple suggestions for the name, but I still haven't found the right fit. Please keep shooting me suggestions if you have them! 
> 
> Translations: 
> 
> Chevoa: Parents  
> Tsahvoa: Grandparents


	6. How I Met Your Chevo (a flashback interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things have a beginning.

“What about Hannoifaleh? They were cute,” Mihraleh tossed out playfully. 

Nalitalvon hummed, never looking up from their cutting board, continuing to carefully carve away fillets without skipping a beat as they answered their mate. “I don’t know. Hannoifaleh was cute, and good company, but they didn’t really click with Vrahfa. They didn’t strike me as a good parent.” 

Mihraleh sighed. “No, they didn’t. Damn.” 

Nalitalvon finished their cut and then set down the knife, looking up at their mate. Mihraleh looked genuinely disappointed, frowning softly at the ground as they leaned a hand against the counter, Vrahlavon hitched on a popped hip. The one-winter old babbled noisily, pounding a chubby fist against their bearer’s chest, making Mihraleh quirk a smile and turn their attention back to their kit, cooing indulgently. Still, something regretful and longing lurked in their bright yellow eyes. 

Nalitalvon left the prep table to go to their mate instead, wiping their hands off before reaching for their slightly taller mate, cupping a hand over the back of their neck and bringing them in for a comforting nuzzle. 

“Not tired of me already, are you, my Heart?” they teased gently, chuckling when Mihraleh snorted. 

“Hey now, no teasing. That’s my job, I’m the funny one,” Mihraleh protested lightly, rolling their eyes, before sobering again. “Of course not, my Soul. I could never tire of you. But... I worry. It can be hard to find a mate after kits, you know? And I don’t want Vrahfa to grow up lacking anything.” 

“Vrahfa lacks for nothing,” Nalitalvon assured their mate with a fond smile and a chuckle. “Especially parental affection, you love them enough for three on your own. Don’t worry so, my Heart. Love will come when the Gods will it. Just be patient.” 

Mihraleh snorted again, wrinkling their nose. “You’re so easygoing, Naliva. You can’t just wait for things to happen! If I had just waited, you’d probably still be pining after me from the bow of your Faschevo’s boat.” 

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Nalitalvon chuckled, releasing Mihraleh’s nape to run a loosely curled hand along the long length of their braid instead, giving it a gentle tug. “I think I would have gotten up the courage. Eventually.” 

“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that,” Mihraleh rolled their eyes, turning their attention back to their kit and crooning their next words. “Isn’t that right, Vrahfafa? Your Taschev’s just a hopeless old romantic, aren’t they?” Vrahlavon babbled some stern sounding nonsense, making both parents laugh. “Yes they are. Naliva, Vrahfa says you’re a silly old Voa.” 

“They are wise beyond their years,” Nalitalvon chuckled, favoring their kit with a fond nuzzle right between their budding horns. Vrahlavon babbled happily, and Nalitalvon felt something warm and contented unfurl in their chest. 

“Good morning!” 

Mihraleh turned towards the greeting, grinning widely. “Good morning! So good to finally have the rain break, eh? What can I get you?” 

The moment passed, and Nalitalvon returned to work as the rush began in earnest, but the feeling of contentment lingered.

  
  
  


“Naliva, have you seen Vrahfa?” 

Nalitalvon looked up at their mate’s question, immediately tense at the worry edging toward panic in their tone. Mihraleh was diligently checking every hidey-hole in their small stall, growing more distressed by the second. Nalitalvon felt their stomach drop when they swept their gaze over the stall too and also could not see their kit. 

“No,” Nalitalvon replied, also edging towards panic and beginning to look. 

Mihraleh made a small, distressed sound. “They were  _ right here _ a moment ago- Vrahfa! Vrahfafa! Where are you, sweetheart?” they called. 

“Your little one missing?” Sivatsileh, their stall-neighbor, asked with concern. 

Nalitalvon nodded shortly, worry eating away at their gut. “Seems so. Have you seen Vrahfa?” 

“Can’t say I have- Torva, go have a look in the crowd, would you?” Nalitalvon nodded their thanks to their friend as Sivatsileh sent their teenage kit off to look. 

The both of them were just starting to truly work themselves up into a panic when suddenly Torvahleh returned, grinning proudly and leading a rather large Voa with the small form of Vrahlavon curled in their arm, the babe grinning and looking no worse for wear. “Found them!” Torvahleh announced brightly. 

“Vrahlavon!” Mihraleh burst, rushing forward, Nalitalvon hot on their heels. 

“Facha!” Vrahlavon burst happily, clapping, pleased to be the center of attention. 

Frantically, their mate scooped their kit up from the stranger, hugging them close and babbling a mile a minute. “Oh thank the Gods, I thought we lost you! Don’t you ever do that again Vrahfafa, my heart can’t take it-!” Vrahlavon babbled wordlessly in reply, their little voice overlapping Mihraleh’s in an unintelligible counterpoint that made Nalitalvon’s chest finally relax. 

They turned to the tall, broad Voa that was now watching Mihraleh and Vrahlavon’s reunion with a warm smile. They looked big and strong, with horns that curved out to the sides and a prominent black muzzle, white markings on their cheeks making the black of their face seem more of an hourglass shape that was quite fetching and emphasized well formed features. Despite their size, their deep gold eyes- a darker hue than Mihraleh’s brighter sunny yellow- were soft and gentle. 

“Thank you,” Nalitalvon sighed, throwing themselves at the stranger to wrap them in a grateful embrace. They were as huggable as they looked, and when their strong arms wrapped around Nalitalvon in turn, returning the embrace, Nalitalvon fought back a pleased purr. They weren’t so shameless that they would be  _ that  _ forward with someone they had just met. When Nalitalvon regretfully pulled away, still beaming, they continued, “We can never thank you enough.” 

“Yes,” Mihraleh added, nearly in a flirtatious purr, and Nalitalvon resisted the urge to sigh. Their mate, on the other hand, was exactly that shameless. “We could never repay you for returning our kit safely to us, but please, let us try? Let us feed you at the least.” 

The stranger tensed slightly, their tail twitching in embarrassment and looking down shyly, obviously catching Mihraleh’s blatant flirting. “I-it was no trouble at all,” they insisted, shaking their head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on you and your third...” 

Nalitalvon smiled to themself, feeling their heart melt. Gently, they took the stranger’s hand, causing them to look up. “No intrusion at all,” Nalitalvon assured them. “While the invitation was  _ crudely  _ made-” they spared a reproachful half-glare for their mate, who merely smiled unrepentantly, “It is genuine. I’m Nalitalvon. This is my mate, Mihraleh, and our firstborne, Vrahlavon. We’d be honored to host you for a meal.”

Buttery golden eyes flicked between them, measuring, and slowly, broad shoulders relaxed, a small smile growing on the stranger’s mouth. Nalitalvon felt their heartbeat quicken. 

“Yarethelah,” they replied softly, and let Nalitalvon lead them away. 

  
  
  
  


Yarethelah proved to be excellent company. Their apartment was humble, but Nalitalvon and Mihraleh welcomed Yarethelah into it all the same. As they ate, they talked, and Yarethelah in turn warmed the space with their bright smile and gentle laughter. 

"Where is your third?" Yarethelah asked curiously as Mihraleh passed out bowls. 

"Oh, we don't have one yet," Mihraleh answered cheerfully as they settled in their seat, holding their own bowl high as Vrahlavon clambered onto their lap. 

Yarethelah's ear quirked. "And you still...?" 

"I know, I know, it's a little bit reckless starting on kits before finding a third," Mihraleh chuckled. They looked down at Vrahlavon when the kit reached into their bowl, stealing a chunk of meat, the kit grinning up at them and their smile going wry. "But we just couldn't wait." 

"You mean you couldn't wait," Nalitalvon snorted good naturedly, flicking Mihraleh back when they flicked them with their tail and cracking a grin when Yarethelah hid a giggle behind their hand. 

"So, what brings you to Rohvrehvoavan, Yarethelah?" Nalitalvon asked curiously. "It's not often we get new faces here."

"Oh, I will be filling an opening for a teacher at the school," Yarethelah answered obligingly. "I just finished my advanced education in Ahnsanvan a season ago, and one of my siblings lives here with their family. It seemed a good fit." 

"You like working with kits?" Mihraleh questioned lightly, deceptively casual. 

Yarethelah's smile softened, their golden eyes dropping to Vrahlavon, who grinned and happily babbled to have their attention, gracelessly stumbling from Mihraleh to the larger Voa's lap to flop onto it and show them their favorite toy. Yarethelah chuckled, lightly combing their fingers through Vrahlavon's hair. "I do. Especially younger kits." 

Mihraleh looked at Nalitalvon expectantly. They could practically hear the  _ See?! _ Nalitalvon shot back a more stern look.  _ Don’t you dare. _

Steering the conversation away from the topic before Mihraleh could do something ridiculous, like propose, Nalitalvon asked, “What did you study in Ahnsanvan?” 

They were delightfully surprised when Yarethelah brightened and perked, immediately replying, “History,” and just like that, they were rambling excitedly. Nalitalvon was quickly lost, and they could tell Mihraleh was too, both of them much more familiar with their own trade than anything academic, but this time when Nalitalvon met Mihraleh’s glance, they could also tell Mihraleh was thinking the same thing. 

Yarethelah was perfect. 

  
  
  
  


Eventually, afternoon turned to early evening, the sunlight from their window darkening from yellow to rosy orange, and Yarethelah sheepishly made to excuse themselves. “My sibling will be worried, and I’ve taken much of your time-”

“Nonsense,” Nalitalvon soothed with a light pat on their arm, “You’ve been delightful company, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon.” 

Yarethelah’s head ducked shyly, their tail twitching in embarrassment. “Yes, well. I should still...” 

“Of course, we wouldn’t want to worry your family,” Mihraleh chuckled, and Nalitalvon immediately distrusted the sly gleam in their eye. “I’ll walk you home. You’re still new here, wouldn’t want you to get lost.” 

Oh, Nalitalvon could see their scheme now. Immediately, they added, scooping up Vrahlavon, “We’ll both walk with you. We could all use a little exercise.” 

“If you’d like,” Yarethelah accepted with a small smile. When they turned, Mihraleh shot Nalitalvon a mild pouting glare. Nalitalvon simply rolled their eyes back. 

It was a pleasant evening, and a pleasant walk, which turned into a minor tour of Rohvrehvoavan when they discovered Yarethelah had only arrived a few days prior and was still unfamiliar with much of the town, but eventually, they ended up at the entrance to Yarethelah’s sibling’s courtyard. 

Yarethelah offered them a smile, bashful and genuine. “Thank you for the meal. And the tour. I enjoyed your company.” 

Nalitalvon smiled back, readjusting Vrahlavon on their hip to free their arm and reach out, drawing Yarethelah into a parting embrace. “You’re welcome again anytime.” 

“Yes, anytime,” Mihraleh concurred, also giving them a hug. “Don’t be a stranger, Yarethva.” 

Yarethelah’s tail twitched again, but their smile didn’t dim and they didn’t object to the pet name. Instead, they simply gave a small wave and departed, moving into the courtyard. Nalitalvon returned the wave with a smile and began to walk down the street. 

Mihraleh barely waited for the entryway to Yarethelah’s home to disappear from sight before rounding on Nalitalvon, their eyes bright and determined. "Naliva." 

"No." 

"But my dearest-"

"No." 

"-my darling-" 

"No."

"-my heart of hearts-"

"Nope." 

"I want them," Mihraleh finished, a stubborn set to their chin. 

Nalitalvon sighed. "My Heart, we've known them less than a day. I'm not going to let you propose straight out of the gate." 

"But they're so pretty!" Mihraleh nearly whined, draping themselves over Nalitalvon's shoulders and back to curl into the crook of their neck and sighing wistfully. "So big and beautiful. And sweet. And they're so good with Vrahfa! I want my next kit sired by them." A teasing tone crept into their voice, Mihraleh nearly purring in Nalitalvon's ear, "I know you're thinking about bearing one for them too." 

Nalitalvon couldn't quite control the embarrassed twitch of their tail, and felt their mate's smirk of victory against their shoulder. They had indeed been thinking about that. Nalitalvon sighed. 

"I'm still not letting you propose tonight." 

"That's fine-" 

"OR tomorrow morning," Nalitalvon cut in ruthlessly, well aware of their mate's usual tendency for malicious compliance. Mihraleh pouted, making them chuckle and nuzzle their mate over their shoulder. "We will court Yarethelah. Properly. And you will refrain from even mentioning mating unless they bring it up until the Harvest Moon festival. Fair?" 

"Ugh," Mihraleh groaned, rolling their eyes. "But that's so tedious. Aren’t you the one that was saying love would find us? I proposed to you right off, and look at us now! We're fine." 

"Yes, you did, and damn near scared me off for good," Nalitalvon snipped. “You’re not the only one that wants Yarethelah to stick around.” 

“Yaryaryar,” Vrahlavon piped up, clapping their little hands happily. 

“See?” Nalitalvon chuckled. 

"Traitor," Mihraleh grumbled, leaning over Nalitalvon’s shoulder to faux glare at Vrahlavon. Nalitalvon snorted and turned their head to nuzzle into their mate's neck, sighing contentedly. 

"Relax, my heart. Enjoy the beginning of something beautiful." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not quite a proper update, but just so you guys don't think I've forgotten about this story, a brief prequel and a glimpse of Nalitalvon and Yarethelah's long-lost but not forgotten mate. Some deets on the Mihraleh/Nalitalvon/Yarethelah relationship: 
> 
> Mihraleh and Nalitalvon are both native to Rohvrehvoavan, and both from fishing families. The two hit it off when they were teenagers, and dated all throughout their teenage years with a few different people rotating through their third position, but never really found anyone they quite clicked with as a unit. They mated pretty much as soon as was socially appropriate, and produced Vrahlavon that first year (since the Voa in this story consider three partners the ideal, culturally for them that was basically the same thing as choosing to be a single parent for us. They got quite a few side-eyes that first year). Yarethelah is actually a few years younger than Mihraleh and Nalitalvon, and is not native to Rohvrehvoavan, instead belonging to one of its sister towns a little further along the river system Rohvrehvoavan is on, but as of this interlude they had just finished their 4-year college degree, basically, in one of the larger cities of the Voa nation. They were also VERY aware Mihraleh was hitting on them constantly during that afternoon spent together, but flattered by the attention. After this interlude, Yarethelah did indeed accept their proposal during the next Harvest Moon festival, allowing Mihraleh to shift to full-time child minding, and for Mihraleh to give birth to Kahanla the next spring. 
> 
> (Yeah, Nalitalvon and Yarethelah's backstory is pretty much a Hallmark romance movie. I make no apologies.) 
> 
> PS: So I know Toasty ret-conned since I posted the last chapter and Intseh are called Voa now; is anyone bothered if I just leave the term 'Intseh' in the previous chapters and use 'Voa' in all coming chapters, or should I go back and edit? Opinions? 
> 
> PPS: I finally figured out a title! Pretty pleased with myself.


End file.
